


Summer Bucket List

by Beewachan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi needs friends, Another summer au, Atsumu is in Tokyo for the vacation, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sloooooooow Burn - Freeform, Slow Burn, Some Subtext, Summer Training Camp, a lil humor, its only rated teen for curses tho, probably a Lot of sexual tension, the wonderful matchmaker Akaashi keiji, theyre third years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-07-16 12:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16085855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beewachan/pseuds/Beewachan
Summary: When Keiji’s parents encourage him to make new friends (now that the third-years have graduated), he makes friends with his neighbor’s nephew who agrees to be friends and stay friends as long as they complete his bucket list.





	1. Sex Fruit and Volleyball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deviouschinchilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviouschinchilla/gifts).



The first day of summer isn’t going as planned. 

“I’ll give you a weekly allowance of fifty thousand yen if you go out and make friends,” Keiji’s mother says, looking up from her newspaper. 

His mom, on the other hand, doesn’t look away from the pancakes she’s flipping, but if she were to, you’d know she’d be glaring at her wife. “Don’t say things like that, Ayame! He has plenty of friends!” 

“They don’t count if they’re just from the volleyball team, babe.” 

“Yes, they do! If they hang out and enjoy each other’s presence, they’re friends!” 

Keiji, who hasn’t come down from the second to last step on the stairs, has yet to interject. He figures if he lets his parents argue it out, they’ll forget what they were fighting over in the first place. So, when the topic switches from “will you stop trying to run our son’s life?” to “why don’t you ever help with the dishes?” Keiji thinks it’s safe to venture out into the kitchen. 

He helps set the table. No comment. He pulls out a chair and sits. No comment. He grabs a blueberry pancake and stuffs his mouth. Comment. 

“Keiji, don’t think I forgot you’re antisocial.” 

Of course his mother would bring it up again after his mouth is too full for him to counter.

“He’s not antisocial! Just shy!” 

“I’m neither.” He dabs at his mouth with a napkin. 

“Then why don’t you ever bring anyone home? We never get to meet your friends, except the cutie with the bleached hair and his punk friend, but they’re from _volleyball_. And they just graduated. I think you should converse with different kinds of people, gain some outside perspective.” 

“Such as?” 

“ _Such as_ that kid who’s staying with Jeanette’s family for the summer.” 

“Yes! I saw him weeding the garden the other day! He seems like such a nice kid!” When Keiji’s mom agrees, he knows the argument is completely lost. 

Still, he says, “Mom, I have volleyball camp.”

“Yes, but it’s so close to home, so you’ll be back on the weekends, won’t you? He’s from another part of Japan, so maybe you’ll get more cultured!” 

 

X 

 

Blueberry pancakes smell better than children sweating, chasing after bouncy-balls on the street in the 34 degree summer heat. At least that’s what Keiji’s concluded since his five seconds of stepping into the browning grass. 

“Hey, that was my ball!” 

“It’s mine now, loser!” A child snatches a glittery pink ball out of the grass. Keiji wants to tell them off for being so childish and immature. Okay, maybe he is antisocial. Children should be childish, after all.

He’s regretting going outside, but that doesn’t stop him from making his way to the navy blue door across the traffic-less street and knocking.

Jeanette, his neighbor who shares her baked banana bread on occasion, answers the door. “Hi, Keiji!” Having known him since he was in diapers, Jeanette is one of the select-few that has the privilege of calling him by his given name (without provoking him, anyway). 

“Hello, Miya-san.”

“How’ve you been, kiddo? I haven’t seen you in forever!” She perks up, her bun flopping around on her head. 

Keiji neglects to mention the last time they saw each other was Monday. “Well, and you?” It’s Tuesday. 

“Fabulous! What brings ya here, baby?” 

“My mothers said I need to befriend someone my age whom you happen to be housing.”

“Sure! He’s super bored since they cancelled his training camp after some kid threw a stink bomb in the locker room, anyway,” Jeanette grins. “Atsumu, honey, come out here!” 

There’s a silence between Keiji and his neighbor for a good twenty seconds. He stares expectantly at the steps, visible from the opened door on the porch; Jeanette does the same.

“Atsumu, get your ass down here!” Subconsciously, Keiji retreats although only slightly. He had never seen Jeanette yell before, and honestly, he’s impressed by the command laced in her voice.

Not more than half a second later, there’s a mop of blond hair flying in every which direction down the stairs, accompanied by loud thumps of feet longer than the steps. 

“What?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Atsumu, I adore you and all, but didn’t your mama ever teach you not to ‘what’ your elders?” 

“Sorry, sorry, I won’t do it again.” Atsumu raises his hands up in surrender, earning a satisfied grin from Jeanette. 

“Anyway, honey, this is Keiji, my neighbors’ son, and Keiji, this is Atsumu, my verging-on-morally-depraved nephew.”

Hazel green eyes flick toward Keiji’s. Atsumu has an industrial ear piercing and a glare that burns holes through Keiji’s head. He’s not particularly someone Keiji would befriend if given the choice.

Keiji extends a hand, which Atsumu seems reluctant to take. 

“Alright, now that you guys are friends, I’m gonna go bake some banana bread in celebration of my adorable nephew’s first Tokyo friend!” Jeanette pushes Atsumu out of the foyer and slams the door shut, leaving Keiji alone with him. 

“Hi,” Keiji says, almost wincing under the intensity of Atsumu’s gaze. He will not visibly cringe. He’s Akaashi freaking Keiji; he doesn't back down from staring contests just because his adversary happens to be approximately a quarter-centimeter taller and a tad unnerving. 

Still unblinking, Atsumu shakes Keiji’s hand and lets go. “Hi.” 

“Look,” Keiji begins, but he finds it hard to continue without the involuntary urge to blink his eyes. 

Atsumu shows no give, eyes wide open, frown firmly set. “At?” 

“Your eyes are turning red.” 

“I had an edible before coming outside.”

“How’d you even come across one of those in Japan?” Keiji raises an eyebrow. 

Atsumu’s eyebrows draw together. “Okay, I lied, but I really wanna win.”

“Truce?”

“A truce isn’t a win, fool.” 

“It isn’t a loss either; we can blink on the count of three,” Keiji suggests, and Atsumu nods. “One,” Keiji sucks in a breath, “two, three.” He could still feel Atsumu’s eyes on him. 

It’s only after his eyes completely flutter open again that Atsumu dares blink. 

“Cheater.”

“Sorry, I had to win,” Atsumu says, averting his eyes to the ground as his cheeks redden. Perhaps he isn’t as unapproachable as Keiji first drew him out to be. 

Keiji nods, and Atsumu looks up again. 

“I know this is awkward, but my mom wants me to make friends, so could you maybe come over and pretend to enjoy yourself?” Keiji knows he could have approached the topic with more couth, but, really, he just wants to please his parents. 

“What’s in it for me?” 

That was a question Keiji didn’t expect to encounter.  
“The power of friendship?” He offers. 

“Do you have food?”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.” 

“There’s probably something in the fridge,” Keiji shrugs. 

“Lit. Can we go inside now? It’s, like, scalding hot out here,” Atsumu nods toward the children arguing over the glittery bouncy ball, “and those kids are really annoying.” 

Silently, Keiji leads Atsumu across the street toward the Akaashi family household. Their welcome mat reads “Hello, gorgeous,” in some buffed-up font, to which Atsumu quietly replies, “Hi, mat,” and Keiji forgets why he was ever intimidated in the first place. 

Keiji braces himself when he unlocks the door and lets Atsumu step inside. Keiji chooses not to comment on the fact that Atsumu never put any shoes on before leaving his aunt’s house.

“Hello!” One of two moms appears in the foyer. 

“Hi!” Atsumu waves with a dimpled smile. 

“You’re a cutie patootie, aren’t’cha!” Two of two moms comments with a smile, whose wideness challenges Garfield. 

Keiji’s bracing did not prepare him for this.

“Thanks!” Atsumu’s eyes crinkle as his toothy grin widens. 

“Can I get you anything to drink? Are you hungry? Keiji, get him some water.” Keiji’s mom says, long blond hair bouncing with the spring in her step as she makes a beeline for the fridge. “What’s your name, cutie patootie? It’s Atsumu, isn’t it? Keiji doesn’t have a lot of friends; this is so exciting! You can call me Hina! We have fruit, do you like chocolate-covered strawberries?” She speaks quickly, like her mouth can’t keep up with her thoughts. 

“Yes,” Atsumu nods, trailing behind Hina as her wife scolds her for offering him a sex fruit. 

“Mom, please.”

“Okay! It’s eight-thirty, so we have to go to work, but,” Hina pulls out the container of strawberries and hands them to Atsumu, “here you go! Have a good day, boys! Ayame, start the car!” 

Ayame pulls out her keys, but she doesn’t leave without kissing Keiji’s head and bidding him adieu; Hina follows her footsteps, once again leaving Keiji and Atsumu alone in awkward silence. It doesn’t last long. 

“You have two moms?” 

“Yes, and you’re eating their sex fruit,” Keiji confirms, handing a glass of water to Atsumu, who has made himself at home, sitting on a stool in front of the kitchen counter. 

“Cool.” Atsumu pops a strawberry into his mouth. 

“Did you just eat it whole? Without coring it?” 

“Look, I thought I was here to show your parents you have friends, not to be judged,” Atsumu says, grabbing another strawberry and eating the leaves first.

“No judgement is being passed,” Keiji says, wondering if he has to adjust his phrasing at times, like he did with Bokuto. He misses Bokuto. 

Truth be told, Keiji hasn’t made very many friends since the third-years left for college. He’s been eating lunch at school with Kaori and Onaga, but there’s been a lot of tension between them lately with Onaga’s huge crush on her, and really, being with Atsumu was a refreshing change (although he didn’t know him — at all, really). 

Atsumu side-eyes Keiji as he says, “Then quit looking at me with those judgy eyes.” 

“Am I the only one seeing the irony here?” 

“Oh, shit,” Atsumu whispers, rolling his eyes back toward the strawberries instead of looking at Keiji. 

Keiji’s smile is almost unnoticeable, but it’s there. 

“So, do you, like, not have friends?” Atsumu asks despite his mouth being stuffed with two strawberries. 

Keiji wants to be shocked by his lack of manners, but Atsumu is vaguely familiar, being the best setter in high school volleyball (not that his parents had to know that), so Keiji had an idea of what kind of person he was dealing with. Still, although not shocked, Keiji finds himself slightly offended. “You're so rude, Miya-san.” 

Atsumu shrugs, suddenly not wanting to open his full mouth. 

“I do have friends. They’ve just graduated.” 

“From pre-k?” Atsumu asks, his voice sounding genuine. It almost makes Keiji misinterpret the fact that he’s being roasted. 

“No, asshole, from high school.” 

“I just love strawberries!” Ignoring Keiji’s response, Atsumu swallows the last one whole with a smile on his face. “So, how often can I come over?”

“Um, I have to go to volleyball camp in, like, five days, but I’ll be back on week—” Keiji doesn’t get to finish because Atsumu slams his hands down on the counter, his eyes lighting up. 

“You play volleyball?!” 

“I’m a setter,” Keiji nods. 

“Me, too!” Atsumu practically squeals. Keiji holds in a laugh. “Are you good!?” 

“I mean, we always make nationals — usually placing second in the qualifiers, though,” Keiji says in his most modest tone.

“Itachiyama!”

“No.”

“Fuck-you-o…” Atsumu guesses again, trailing off this time. 

“Fukurodani. That’s the one,” Keiji nods modestly, his arms folded across his chest. 

“Cool! I play for Inarizaki. We’re pretty good. We lost early on in nationals last year, though.” 

“I know; I watched the match.” 

“This is so cool, bro,” Atsumu grins. “We should play together.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Dude, please, my school’s training camp got cancelled, and then I came here to play with a travel team, but they were like, ‘we don’t tolerate holier-than-thou players here,’ so I couldn’t join, and I’m so volleyball-deprived. I’ve just been throwing mine up and down in my aunt’s guest room for the last forty-eight hours, and playing with some kids outside, but they're, like, seven.” 

“We play the same position.”

“You should let me toss to you,” Atsumu says, “even if you’re bad. Please, I’m desperate.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“I mean, maybe it’s just me, but if I were being asked to practice by one of the best high school volleyball players in Japan, I’d say yes,” Atsumu shrugs. 

Rolling his eyes, Keiji grabs the empty strawberry container, throws it in the sink, and heads toward the door rack, slipping out of his converse and into volleyball shoes. 

“Does this mean we’re gonna play volleyball?” 

 

X

 

“Keiji.” 

“Hmm?” Keiji steps away from the dirt court toward a bench in the grass. 

“You kind of suck.”

“I’m not a spiker, Miya-san.” 

“I know, and it’s tragic.” Atsumu takes a seat on the bench Keiji stands next to. “Anyway, you can call me Atsumu.”

Keiji nods, pulling his shirt up to cool down. 

“At least you tried to hit the ball, I guess.” 

“I hit the ball,” Keiji corrects.

“At least you tried to hit the ball _well_ ,” Atsumu restates. “I can work with that.”

“I’m not really interested in being worked with, thank you very much.” 

“Fine, I’ll leave you alone.” Atsumu spins the ball in his fingertips. “But only if you pull your shirt down. You look like an exhibitionist.” 

“Whatever.” Keiji’s shirt comes down quickly, and he motions for Atsumu to scoot over, which he does, so Keiji can take his rightful seat beside him. 

“What are you interested in if you don’t wanna learn to spike half-decently?” 

“Setting.”

“I guess you could set to me.”

“Don’t you like doing anything other than volleyball?” 

“Honestly?” Atsumu turns to look Keiji in the eyes. “Not really.”

An ice cream truck sings on the street adjacent to the park. 

“Do you have money on you?” 

A nod cues Atsumu’s sprint down the street, following the truck into a neighborhood (Keiji follows behind, tripping on a bush, but he gets up quick, pulling grass and dirt out of his hair). 

It’s times like these that Keiji is thankful for the half an hour of suicides that his coach makes the team do every conditioning meet. After an intense chase, running corners and zipping through trees, shaking the earth itself, they both gain on the truck and wave down the driver.

“Hey!” Atsumu calls, not once but three times, before the truck pulls over. 

Between breaths, Atsumu asks for an ice-pop of Spongebob, leaning on the metal counter of the truck.

Keiji does the same, but he asks for Dora the Explorer. 

The old man behind the truck counter comments about how they’re “too old to be getting ice cream from this run-down runt trap” before looking for their cuisine of choice in the back. 

“Keiji.”

Keiji spares a weary glance to his friend (as of two and a half hours ago). 

Atsumu proceeds to pull a blade of light green grass out of Keiji’s dark curls.

Keiji can’t quite decide whether this is awkward or not, so naturally, he turns away ignoring the problem and pays for their ice cream with the money his mother gave him this morning as compensation for making a friend. 

“Thanks for not getting upset when I said you suck at spiking, by the way. That usually pisses people off for some reason,” Atsumu says as he slips Spongebob out of his plastic wrap. 

“Can’t imagine why,” Keiji raises his eyebrows in mock-surprise. 

“Right?”

Keiji leads Atsumu away from the ice cream truck (the man was getting annoyed that they were still leaning on it post-transaction) and through the narrow streets of a neighborhood full of houses that make Keiji feel like his family is financially bankrupt. 

“Thanks for taking the grass out of my hair.” Keiji runs his fingers through his dark locks, just to make sure there isn’t more.

“No problem. Your hair’s really soft, by the way.”

“I use a 2-in-1,” Keiji answers for reasons unbeknownst to him. 

“You know,” Atsumu says, licking one of Spongebob’s misplaced eyes, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Eaten ice cream?”

“Sort of. I mean, like, normal teenage things. Like running after an ice cream truck with a friend.”

“That’s more of a normal seven-year-old thing.”

“Okay, yeah, I did it once when I was, like, five, but then my mom was like, ‘Atsumu, you have to go on a strict healthy diet to grow up big and strong if you wanna play volleyball,’ and I wasn’t allowed to have ice cream more than once a year again, and I feel so deprived when I’m looking at this poor excuse for my absolute favorite childhood cartoon character.” 

“I guess a childhood without eating your favorite cartoon character on an ice pop would be pretty lame,” Keiji sympathizes, biting off part of Dora’s hair.

“That was so aggressive. Anyway, we should chase down the ice cream truck more. And do other normal teenage stuff.”

“Like?”

“Keiji, how am I supposed to know what normal teenage stuff is if I’ve never done it?”

“Google.”

“I’d google it, but my hands are full.” He’s holding Keiji’s volleyball. 

Keiji shrugs. “How do you know the stuff you regularly do isn’t normal teen stuff?”

“I’ve never been to a party. Or kissed anyone. Or had a sleepover, or spent an entire day binge watching Netflix, and I haven’t read a book for fun since, like, sixth grade, and I’ve never drank alcohol from one of those vending machines, and I didn’t even know Snapchat streaks were a thing until last year!” 

“Are you suggesting that we engage in these normal teenage activities? Because I don’t have a Snapchat.” 

“Um, you’re making one. We’re gonna have a streak. It’ll prove to your moms that you have a new BFF.”

“Did you really just say BFF?”

“I’m your new BFF.” Atsumu nudges Keiji, bumping shoulders. “Snapchat will prove it. We’ll have those little hearts near each other’s names. I tried to get that with Suna, but he kept snapping my brother instead, and I think they’re, like, friendship-married, or something.”

“Is that what the Snapchat hearts symbolize? Friendship-marriage?”

“Yep, you’re promising to be friends forever.”

“If you’ll be my friend (forever), I’ll help you do that normal teenage stuff,” Keiji offers. “Just make a list.”

“Deal! I’ll snap it to you.” Atsumu’s self-satisfied grin signifies the acceptance of Keiji’s deal. 

Now that he’s concluded step one: make a friend, he’s on his way to step two: keep his friend (long enough to appease his parents).


	2. Green Latex and a Pink Pool Noodle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji and Atsumu cross things off Atsumu’s bucket list, and Osamu, like a good brother, fucks things up for his twin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to proofread but I’m tired as shit so here u go

Atsumu’s lost one too many Mario Kart games when he tosses his controller aside. Interrupting Keiji and telling him not to be a sourpuss, Atsumu extends his palm to him, sitting on the bean bag in the corner of Jeanette’s guest room. 

“Am I supposed to do something with this?” Keiji taps the back of Atsumu’s hand with his fingertips. 

“Put your phone in it,” Atsumu demands, but Keiji only furrows his eyebrows at him. “I’m not gonna look for your porn,” Atsumu sighs, “I’m just going to download Snapchat on your phone.”

“I can do it myself, but okay.” Keiji pulls his iPhone 6s, still in perfect condition, out of his pocket and places it in Atsumu’s palm. 

“Your phone still has a headphone jack?” Atsumu spends three seconds examining it upon this discovery before he pulls up the App Store. “I can’t believe you don’t have a password.”

“Should I?”

“Nah.”

Keiji gets off the bean bag and joins Atsumu on the matted floor, leaning close to see the phone screen. 

Under username, Atsumu smirks to himself before typing in, “AtsumusnewBFF.” Keiji makes no comment, so Atsumu hands him the phone and instructs him to make a password. Keiji doesn’t move away, but it’s not like Atsumu is looking at the screen, anyway. 

If he’s being honest, the reason he said yes to this friendship offer was only partially (1/25) because he knew he’d be bored, stuck in Tokyo for another month and a half. The other 96% was because Akaashi Keiji is a sight for sore eyes. 

Yes, really. 

Atsumu gets distracted from his goals (like becoming the absolute best setter in Japan) when exceptionally stunning people are around. 

Normally, he gets flustered around beautiful girls, and his brain’s capabilities are reduced to that of an eggplant, but it’s different around beautiful boys. His brain functions like its typical self, but with extra oxytocin glittered on top. So, Atsumu, very much contently, sits beside Keiji and waits as he types in his information.

“Okay, I’m done. How does this work?” Keiji shows Atsumu a screen that displays the view (Keiji’s green shorts) of the phone’s front camera.

“When you wanna take a picture, tap the circle. When you wanna take a video, press down on the circle. Anyway, you have to add me.” 

“And how do I do that?” Keiji starts to swipe left and right. 

“When you press the top left-hand corner, it’ll show your snapcode. Leave it like that, and I’ll put my Snapchat camera above your phone, and it’ll add you. Then you get a notification and add me back.”

Keiji nods while Atsumu’s phone scans his. “This is fascinating,” he says as the “one new person has added you” notification pops up. 

“Right? Now send me a snap.” Atsumu leans closer to Keiji.

“A what?”

“It’s when you take a picture or video and send it to someone, and if you do it every day, it shows a streak.” 

“And this will count toward our streak?” Keiji asks, taking a picture of the television stand in front of them and sending it to Atsumu. 

“Mhmm.” 

Stuffing his phone back into his shorts, Keiji announces, “I’m headed home to shower. Send me that list.” 

Okay, maybe Atsumu’s brain doesn’t function to its full capacity around cute boys; he lost all Keiji said after his first sentence (thoughts less innocent than a bucket list filled his brain and no, he doesn’t feel bad about it). “Sorry, what?”

“I said send me the list. See you.” He gets up and waves goodbye. 

Atsumu waves back and watches as Keiji exits the room. “Later!” 

Occasionally, Atsumu finds himself doing nothing. Really, he sits and stares blankly at the wall for minutes before he finds something to do, like Snapchat his brother. 

 

Me  
hi loser

Assamu  
Go away  
I was having a pleasant twin-free first week of summer 

Me  
no  
the guy next door is fucking hot  
and im gonna die  
im so bored 

Assamu  
1-10  
Wym ur bored  
Aren’t u supposed to be joining that travel team in Tokyo 

Me  
12  
no they were like we already found another setter and u havent gotten along w the team these past five mins anyway and i didn’t wanna bench warm bc excuse me what do i fucking look like and im afraid to tell mom bc she’s gonna whoop my ass so i played volleyball w these eight year olds for the past three days til the hot guy was like let’s be friends 

Assamu  
Ur friends w the hot guy???  
Also am I supposed to lie to our mother about ur summer volleyball participation 

Me  
yes and yes 

Assamu  
Y should I lie for u 

Me  
idk what do u want 

Assamu  
No eating my food when u get back for 5 months

Me  
2

Assamu  
3

Me  
k anyway u have like 9 girlfriends and a steady boyfriend wanna tell me how u do it 

Assamu  
Nah I’m busy at DEBATE CAMP  
And for the last fucking time, Suna isn’t my boyfriend 

Me  
u should have come here w me 

Assamu  
You do realize the reason I chose debate over volleyball was to get away from you  
I can’t even debate 

Me  
WHAT  
i’ll forgive u if u help me

Assamu  
If he’s a 12 you have no shot js  
But we can attempt to figure smth out  
What’s his personality like 

Me  
idk  
hes polite but kinda rude at the same time  
i like it  
and he bought me ice cream 

Assamu  
K so like at least a 7 as far as we know  
And he’s fineaf  
Ur like a 9.5 but a -12 personality  
So ur avg is like -1.25 and his is > 9.5

Me  
stfu

Assamu  
Im just not seeing it happening here buddy 

Me  
we have similar personalities we r carbon copies samu 

Assamu  
im infinitely superior 

Me  
go home 

Assamu  
U go him  
home  
Why don’t u ask him out 

Me  
wtf we just met today  
is that how it’s supposed to work 

Assamu  
I mean  
just tell him u think he’s fineasf

Me  
the hint of common sense that i have tells me not to do that 

Assamu  
??? U have common sense ????

Me  
only a hint 

Assamu  
Tell me what he says when u profess ur superficial attraction 

Me  
no  
do i just be friends first like u and suna

Assamu  
atsumu

Me  
hmm

Assamu  
fuck you 

 

Atsumu is a fantastic brother, so he decides to leave Osamu on read and works on his summer to-do list. 

 

X

 

Atsumu prods at his microwave dinner before determining it’s decent enough to vacuum in. The meatloaf’s unusual shape reminds him of his deformed Spongebob. So, naturally, his next thought is to Snapchat Keiji a picture of the now empty plastic tray and caption it “reminded me of you.”

He’s pleased to find out Keiji is the kind of person who answers right away. It’s a blank screen, and afterward a message that reads, “How do I caption a picture.”

Atsumu hits the call button instead of sending a message like a normal person. “Hi,” he drags out the syllable for a good three seconds as soon as Keiji answers.

“Hey.”

“You have to tap the photo and then start typing to put a caption.”

“Okay. Why does your empty platter remind you of me?” 

“I don’t really remember, but I thought of you.” 

Keiji doesn’t say anything for a few seconds before answering. “You never sent me your list.” 

“I’ll do it right now!” 

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye!” Atsumu realizes he speaks with much more vigor than Keiji, but he doesn’t mind.

 

Me  
sleepover  
binge watch naruto or got  
read a book or three  
first kiss with someone I don’t hate  
play monopoly  
go to a party  
volunteer  
bowl  
or go ice skating  
go to the beach  
surf  
do diy crafts  
send snail mail  
have a picnic  
tiedye a shirt  
make cookies  
summer job at jeanettes shop  
pull an all nighter  
pre register to vote  
get beer from a vending machine  
prank call  
get that cool 100 water balloon filler thing  
see a drive in movie  
ride a roller coaster  
self-actualize

Akaashi Keiji  
Tomorrow, we can go by the dollar store and get the water balloon thing and supplies for a diy craft of your choice

Me  
does tie dye count as a diy craft 

Akaashi Keiji  
Sure  
I have monopoly 

Me  
littttttt

Akaashi Keiji  
And we can make cookies tomorrow after monopoly and the water balloons 

Me  
yay  
im so glad we r friends now keiji

Akaashi Keiji  
Me too  
We’ll plan more tomorrow  
Good night

Me  
gn keiji

 

X

 

The shade of the water balloons is just a tinge lighter than the green dollar tree basket the balloons reside in. 

“Keiji.”

Keiji hums in acknowledgement, taking the basket down the aisle where there’s glue and notebooks lying on the shelves. 

“Is it normal to think about sex, like, nine thousand times a day?” 

“Probably not, maybe eight thousand nine hundred and ninety nine times, though,” Keiji deadpans with a shrug. “Why? Are you thinking about it now?” 

“Yes.” 

“What position?” Keiji picks up a pink pool noodle. 

“Not actual intercourse,” Atsumu says quietly, his gaze falling to Keiji’s hand around the noodle.

“Oral?”

Atsumu shakes his head. “Manual.”

“Maybe we should add that to your summer bucket list.”

“Maybe.” Atsumu drops a pack of teacher stickers into the cart. 

“Are you getting the pool noodle?” There aren’t any pools in their neighborhood.

“For my bathtub.”

“You want a pool noodle in your bathtub?” 

“Only when I’m in the mood for it.”

Atsumu looks at Keiji. “Oh, okay.” 

 

X

 

“Righty tighty, lefty loosey.” Keiji twists the knob to stop the water from flowing now that all the water balloons have fallen into the bucket. 

Crouching next to him, Atsumu takes a water balloon and smashes it against Keiji’s chest. Against his white, setter-dog shirt. 

“Atsumu, this isn’t how it works.” 

Atsumu responds only by taking another balloon and dropping it on Keiji’s head, which it falls off and splashes near his sneakers. 

Keiji glares, but once he pulls himself together, he grabs a water balloon and smacks it against Atsumu’s cheek. 

“Did you just slap me?”

“No, the green latex did.”

Blinking at Keiji, Atsumu feels another burst of water against his shoulder, and another against his pecs.

“We have 33 more balloons.” 

“Then I get to assault you 17 more times.”

Keiji’s eyebrows furrow. “16,” he corrects, taking a water balloon and hitting Atsumu’s thigh.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Atsumu hisses, throwing another bomb against Keiji’s face. 

He spits latex out of his mouth, but he doesn’t remove the piece on his eyebrow. “That hurt, you know.” 

“Suck it up, buttercup.” 

“There are very few things that I suck.”

“You’re terrib—” Atsumu doesn’t get to finish his declaration because Keiji shoves a balloon at his open mouth. “ _Keiji_.” 

“Ice pops, for example.” More water soaks Atsumu’s shorts. 

“You’re so lucky you’re hot.”

“Is that so?”

Upon realizing what he just said, Atsumu adds, “Because these water balloons are gonna cool you off real well,” and slaps two across the lettering of Keiji’s shirt. 

“This is my favorite shirt.” Keiji looks solemnly at the now-transparent material clinging to his skin. “I’m going to get you for that.” 

 

X

 

The ends of Keiji’s hair hang close to his forehead, damp. Atsumu’s hair, on the other hand, is completely matted against his head, wholly drenched. 

The distribution of the last 33 balloons went like this: Keiji used 23 while Atsumu used 10. This is because Keiji started to take two, even three at a time and hit whatever dry part of Atsumu was left. Atsumu crumbled quickly and surrendered because his legs were starting to give out on the squat, but Keiji was sitting criss-cross applesauce, so he didn’t have this problem.

“Alright, you win. Geez.” Atsumu says pulling a piece of the last balloon out of his bangs. 

Keiji flashes a rather self-satisfied smirk. “Shall we begin cleanup?”

“You, not we. The loser gets to wallow in his self pity and lie in the grass, thanks.” Atsumu leans so his torso is against the blades. 

“Very well then.” Picking up bits of latex near Atsumu’s head, Keiji leans down to whisper, “the neighbor’s French bulldog pees in this grass.”

“Guess it’s time for me to go shower then!” Atsumu sits up in approximately .023 seconds. 

“Yes, and I’ll take a bath with my pool noodle.” 

Atsumu gives Keiji a look. You know, the sort of shocked, sort of turned on kind. “Goodbye, Keiji,” he says, like it’s final.

“Come over with an overnight bag when you’re done.” 

“We’re gonna have a sleepover?!” Atsumu’s voice heightens an octave or two. 

“And play monopoly. And bake cookies.” Keiji winks without smiling, grabbing more pieces of balloon. 

 

X

 

By the time Atsumu is done packing his bags, going to the grocery store to get the ingredients for cookie dough, and getting beer from a vending machine outside, Keiji is just stepping out of the bath. Atsumu knows because he walks in on Keiji drying himself. He sees nothing of interest other than Keiji’s tanned skin tinted pink from the hot shower. 

“Your moms’ car wasn’t there, so I just sorta came inside and looked for your room,” Atsumu says

Keiji doesn't comment on the disrespect for his privacy because he invited Atsumu back and purposely left the front door unlocked. “Mind leaving while I put clothes on?”

“Yes.” Atsumu steps outside despite himself. 

“Thanks,” Keiji calls out, grabbing drawers and pulling them on. “You can come in now.” 

Atsumu steps over the mat outside Keiji’s door as his eyes fall on a pair of trousers. “Keiji!”

“What?”

“You cannot wear those tonight!”

“Forgive me, but I believe we have freedom of expression — including our attire — here in Japan.” Keiji grabs the sweatpants off of his armoire. 

“Keiji, grey sweatpants are, like, the ultimate sex pant!”

“For some reason, I don’t think you’re right.” 

Atsumu is the king of side-eye, so Keiji looks away and wholly ignores Atsumu as he puts the pants on. 

“Keiji, they are.”

“Why?”

“Cucumber line, Keiji, the cucumber line.”

With a smirk, Keiji replies, “Suck it up, buttercup.” 

Atsumu, ignoring the fact that he, too, is in grey sweatpants, averts his gaze from below Keiji’s waist at all costs, but above, there are abs. “Please put a shirt on.”

“But it’s hot.”

“Keiji, I hate you.” 

“Too bad; you're staying the night since we’re ‘BFF’s now.”

“I know,” Atsumu releases a resigned sigh. 

“Jeanette’s okay with it, right?”

Atsumu nods, setting his bag by the doorway. “Yeah, she was happy to get rid of me. What about your parents?”

“I haven’t told them yet. They won’t mind; they have a mini couples-vacation every Wednesday and stay a hotel, usually in Sendai.”

“So it’s just us.”

“Yes, did you lock the front door on your way in?”

Atsumu is busy staring at Keiji’s chest, so it takes quite a while for it to register that Keiji just said something. “Yeah.” 

“Great,” Keiji smiles. 

“I brought toll house cookie dough because I couldn’t find baking powder in the grocery store.”

“I have baking powder.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that.” Atsumu pulls the cookie dough tub out of his brown grocery bag. “Also, I got this beer from the vending machine by the store, so we can cross off another thing from the list.”

“Alright, let's go put the cookies to bake and then start monopoly.”

 

X

 

“Why do you have to win at everything, Keiji?” Atsumu groans, tossing his thimble piece in the box and closing it. 

“I didn’t have the opportunity to win,” Keiji sighs as he pushes monopoly under his bed. 

Leaning his head against the foot of Keiji’s bed, Atsumu counters, “You had _all_ of boardwalk, Keiji.” 

“Okay, so I was going to win. I still didn’t get to.” 

“How about we play a game nobody can win?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Keiji asks, “What’s the point of it then?” 

“To get to know each other — truth or dare?” Looking at Keiji sitting across from him and staring into his slate blue eyes, Atsumu is really glad that Keiji decided to put a shirt on after the air conditioner kicked in. 

“Can’t we do anything else?” Keiji grabs the plate of cookies beside him and shoves then toward Atsumu. “Like finish these?”

Atsumu recoils. “Ew, no, we burnt them.”

A resigned sigh. “Truth then.” 

“How big is your bathtub that you can fit an entire person and a pool noodle inside?” 

“It could fit, like, four people. All of our bathtubs are custom-made because my mom has a bathroom fetish.” 

“Can I see?” 

“Later. Truth or dare?” 

“Dare, of course,” Atsumu grins. 

“Eat the last two cookies, please.”

Momma didn’t raise a quitter, so Atsumu (glares at Keiji as he) shoves the two, rockhard, dark brown, cookies down his throat. 

It’s completely worth it when he sees the pleased look on Keiji’s face. “Thank you.”

Wiping crumbs off of his face, Atsumu says, “You know you’re not supposed to say please and thank you with a dare, right?” 

“Sorry.” 

It was starting to seem like everything Keiji would say would leave Atsumu with this… this strange feeling. It makes him want to coo and clutch at his heart. 

“Truth or dare?” Atsumu asks, neither cooing nor clutching his heart. 

“Truth.”

“Favorite teammate and why.” Atsumu doesn’t know why he asked this because he only knows one of Keiji’s teammates, but he supposes they can just commence instagram-lurking if need be. 

“Bokuto-san was. I don’t know why; I found out he tried to sell my soul while I was asleep during our last training camp. I guess he was mostly nice, and he gave me food sometimes. What about you? Who's your favorite teammate?” 

“Kita. He was, like, my mom, but nicer.” Keiji nods, and Atsumu gets the sense that he has no idea who Kita is, but Atsumu can just change the subject. “I feel like you’re a mom friend.” 

“What do you mean?” Keiji leans forward, and his eyes widen slightly enough to express concern. 

“You know, the friend who’s gives everyone food and talks their friends out of doing stupid shit, like stealing oreos from Walmart.” 

“Only if I felt like it.”

“You're bad?”

Keiji’s eyes narrow. “I’m good.” 

There was that odd feeling again. The one that made Atsumu want to play with Keiji’s hair and grab him by the cheeks and kiss his forehead. “No, Keiji, I meant it in a good way.”

“How is being bad good? They’re antonyms, Atsumu.” 

“Like Rihanna.” 

Keiji’s features soften as he comes to understanding. He knows he’s no match for Rihanna, so he says, “We’re digressing. Truth or dare?

“Truth.”

“In your bucket list, it said you wanted your first kiss with someone who you don’t hate; does that mean you’ve kissed someone you’ve hated before?” 

“Once my brother’s main girlfriend’s friend was lonely, and he told me he’d put a lock on the fridge for a week if I didn’t go pretend to like her until she got a real boyfriend.”

“Main girlfriend?”

“Yeah, he’s a slut,” Atsumu shrugs casually. 

“Why’d you hate your fake girlfriend?”

“I mean…” Atsumu trails off to think his words through, “I didn’t hate her — she was okay. I just hated kissing her.” 

“Why?” 

Atsumu contemplates telling him, but his heart is beating faster, and his brain is working switching between thoughts too fast, and his palm are starting to sweat, so he decides against it. “Let's, uh, save that for another truth? Truth or dare?” 

“Dare,” Keiji covers his mouth when he yawns; it’s starting to get late. 

“I dare you to let me sleep on the bed tonight.”

“Sure, but I’m not sleeping on the floor. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me why you hated kissing that girl.” Fucking cheater. Keiji looks so pleased with himself, too. 

“You’re terrible, no good, absolutely horrible, Keiji,” Atsumu frowns, but he doesn’t mean it. “I had a crush on this guy in class, and I didn’t really wanna kiss anyone else.” 

“That’s so cute.”

He can feel the flush rising up his neck. “Shut your mouth.” 

“Aren’t you going to ask me truth or dare now?” Keiji asks, his voice sassy.

Atsumu wants to tell Keiji he’s done with this stupid game and that he should have never picked it in the first place, but he decides he should only do that after his turn is over. “Fine, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you ever had a crush on someone, who and why?” By now Atsumu’s heartbeat has calmed. He takes delight in the dead look in Keiji’s eyes and the slight pout. “Not so fun now, is it?”

“I liked a girl in third grade because she shared her cookies with me. In middle school, I realized I was gay when I saw Bokuto, but that crush only lasted maybe two weeks. First-year, I had a crush on Kuroo, Bokuto’s frien—”

“Pics.”

Keiji rolls his eyes, but he takes out his phone and goes to the camera roll anyway. He finds a picture with Bokuto and Kuroo holding their diplomas and shows Atsumu, who has to stop himself from histrionically gasping. “He’s hot!”

“I know; that was the only reason I had a crush on him. He’s… irksome.”

“I’d still smash.” 

Sighing, Keiji takes his phone back and finds a picture of Konoha wearing a kimono, posed like Betty Boop, and smiling slyly. “Here’s my last crush; that was also freshmen year but before Kuroo.” 

“What happened to second-year?” 

“I’m jaded.” 

“Wow.” 

Keiji nods. “Truth or dare?”

“Even if I pick dare, you’re going to give me a truth.”

“Precisely. Have you ever had a crush on a teammate?” 

“Nah, but I had a crush on this first year, Tobio-kun, fro—”

Keiji doesn’t usually interrupt, but Atsumu gets the sense that he couldn’t help it. “Kageyama Tobio?” 

“Yeah. I thought he was really cool, but then he turned out to be good, but, like, too good, y’know?”

“Do you still like him?”

Scratching the back of his head, Atsumu opens his mouth to firmly deny all allegations, but his phone starts to ring before he can get a vowel out. “Um, it’s my brother! Wanna say hi?” He's speaking overly enthusiastically — a nervous habit. 

“Sure.”

So, Atsumu accepts the call and puts the phone on speaker. This proves to be an immediately regretful action as Osamu says, without greeting, “How’s it going with the hottie thottie?”

“Shut the fuck up, Osamu,” Atsumu hisses but soon shifts to a much friendlier version of himself. “My friend is here; say ‘hi,’ Keiji.” 

“Hi, Keiji,” Osamu says.

“Hi,” Keiji speaks in his typical monotone.

“Your voice is hot,” Osamu deadpans back. 

“I know.” 

Atsumu presses the end call button without giving any notice. “Sorry about him.”

Keiji shakes his head with a smile, “It’s okay, but who’s the ‘hottie thottie’?” 

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

Fuckity fuck. 

“Tobio.” He doesn’t even like Tobio anymore.

“Well then, I think we’ve found your first kiss that you don’t hate.”

Atsumu’s face lights up when he remembers Kageyama lives in some rural town far away. “Please, he lives, like, a million light years away.” 

“Karasuno comes to Tokyo for summer training camps.”

“You're lying,” Atsumu says, trying and failing to sound excited. 

“Seriously.” 

Keiji is grinning, with teeth, perfect, white, oddly lickable teeth, and it’s making Atsumu’s heart do that thing again — that thing that he hates where it beats just fast enough for him to notice but not fast enough for him to mistake it for nerves. 

“That’s awesome!” Atsumu grins back at Keiji’s stupidly contagious smile. 

This is not awesome. Atsumu is in great distress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if im gonna update next week so sorry in advance lol anyway thank you for reading ❤️❤️❤️


	3. Cucumber Lines and Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji’s realizes he may be attracted to Atsumu, goes to training camp, and tries to propel Kageyama and Atsumu’s relationship (because he’s chosen to deny his attraction).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized it’s atsumus bday today so fuck it I finished the chapter early instead of being a good student  
> have fun reading pls thx

It’s been hours since their game of truth or dare, and they’ve already watched half a season of _One Punch Man_ when Keiji, sitting beside Atsumu in bed, tosses a glance at him.

Atsumu glances back. “Yo.”

“You’re still in touch with Kageyama-kun, correct?”

“I mean, I comment on all of his Instagram posts.”

“They’re all just pictures of volleyballs, aren’t they?” Keiji remembers the post of Kageyama’s favorite volleyball. And then his second favorite. And then his third favorite, and his fifth, and his volleyball shoes, and the basket full of Karasuno’s volleyballs.

“Once he did a ‘happy birthday, dumbass’ post for shrimpy, though,” Atsumu offers.

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Excuse me?”

Keiji turns on his side and props himself up with his elbow, bringing him just centimeters away from Atsumu. “Of Hinata?”

Moving to mirror Keiji, Atsumu wants to say, “No, I don’t even like Tobio. He’s, like, two,” but instead, he attempts to change the subject, “You know, we never did that diy craft I was promised.”

“Tomorrow then.”

“Yep. Goodnight.” With that, Atsumu rolls over and cuddles into the pillow.

“Goodnight, Atsumu.”

Keiji will admit, he’s more invested in this friendship than he was yesterday, so he lets Atsumu’s diversion slide. He never had a gay friend before, unless Kuroo counts — but things got awkward when Kuroo sneaked into the Fukurodani room to scare Bokuto at training camp and ended up scaring the wrong owl (and getting punched in the face; oops). Needless to say, Keiji’s intrigued.

 

X

 

By the time Keiji wakes up, he’s received 20 spam texts, all presumably sent in an intoxicated state, from Bokuto.  
The first 16 are misspellings of Keiji’s name, the next says “imy,” and the rest are a poorly broken-off story about how Kuroo almost choked on Daichi’s chubbies shorts.

Atsumu is out cold, drooling on Keiji’s sheets, so Keiji thinks he has enough time to answer before he has to attempt to be a proper host.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_7:53 a.m._

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
Good morning, Bokuto-san 

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
AKAASHI  
wmu

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
What?

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
we miss u  
kuroo n i  
we need 2 talk

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
About?

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
kuroos boyfriend  
tried  
to  
KISS ME

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
Tell him 

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
BUT IM GONNA BREAK HIS HEART

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
So be it

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
k that was a quick fix just sent the text  
nyway  
HOWS IT GOING BACK IN HIGH SCHOOL KEIJI :))))))

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
Can you please stop rubbing the fact that I’m stuck here for another nine months in my face?

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
NO

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
I made friends with Miya Atsumu because his aunt lives next door, and he has a crush on Kageyama Tobio, and I want to play matchmaker.

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
omg kaaaashi  
OMG  
WHAT ABOUT HINATA

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
Kenma

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
fuck ur right  
i was rly shipping kageyama n hinata tho  
is kageyama even gay hows ur matchmaking gonna work

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
Bokuto-san, we’ve caught him staring at Hinata’s ass one too many times for him to be straight

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
ur right  
y is everyone gay i feel surrounded by a cloud of rainbows  
ur gay right  
i have a question for u  
do gay people see everything through a rainbow colored filter

To: Bokuto Koutarou   
No, and I’m not even that gay.

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
thats y u ran away when kuroo accidentally tripped and fell so that his lips would specifically land on urs  
bc ur not a real gay  
def not bc ur afraid of feelings or whatever u little sociopath

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
I’m not a sociopath, and you’re using it incorrectly; I’ve told you this numerous times, Bokuto-san

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
believe what u will ;P

To: Bokuto Koutarou   
There’s an emoji for that.

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
stfu  
what’s ur grand stratagem to bring them together  
did i use stratagem correctly bc i feel like i didn’t

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
I guess  
I’m not really sure how I’ll get Kageyama to come off campus  
Or if I can sneak Atsumu into training camp

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
ajaashi ur not supposed to sneak ppl in

To: Bokuto Koutarou   
I know; that’s why I used sneaking instead of bringing

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
u know wtv  
fucking smart ppl  
r u turning into a bad boy bc akaashi i never expected this from u u were like the best boy

To: Bokuto Koutarou   
No  
I’m just trying to make love blossom  
Even if I have to break a couple of rules to do it

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
how do we know kageyama will like him  
p sure miya atsumus a sociopath  
according to that little definition u always give me

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
Lmao no he’s  
like  
A dick but  
A soft dick  
Wait  
I didn’t mean it like that

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
u would fuckin know   
is he cute enough for u to smash

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
What’s wrong with you  
No  
Maybe  
Yes

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
ur standards aren’t that high since u had a crush on kuroo idk y i asked  
do u think he’s cuter than hinata

To: Bokuto Koutarou  
To Kageyama?  
Hinata’s obviously cuter  
But Atsumu is hotter  
And Kageyama probably has a strong bond with Hinata since they have shared trauma  
But Atsumu is really attractive  
And has a vaguely endearing personality 

From: Bokuto Koutarou  
just sneak atsumu in and lock them in the gym closet together  
isn’t it at fukurodani this year  
i heard that theyre doing construction at Shinzen

To: Bokuto Koutarou   
Unfortunately

 

Keiji feels a tugging of the sheets and sees Atsumu attempting to pull them closer, but Keiji doesn’t budge (he wants to see if Atsumu’s strong enough to yank the blanket out from under his body weight). Ultimately, Atsumu gives up and rolls over, throwing an arm over Keiji’s arm and torso.

Keiji’s unsure what to do with it, given it’s preventing him from responding to Koutarou, and he’s also wondering whether or not it’s normal for best friends as of two days ago to hold each other in bed early morning. Really, the whole limb is an inconvenience, making Keiji have to _think_ and _empathize_.

Empathy is a weakness.

It keeps Keiji from shoving Atsumu to the side so he can finish the (now one-sided) conversation with his actual best friend, who’s still texting if phone vibrations are any indication. But because he knows he wouldn’t want someone to disturb him in a pleasant, deep sleep, Keiji doesn’t move. Atsumu’s manicured fingers twitch.

“Are you awake?” Keiji whispers.

Barely opening an eyelid, Atsumu mutters incoherently.

“Okay.” Keiji takes his psuedo-answer as permission to flick away Atsumu’s arm and bid Koutarou adieu.

The arm returns shortly, accompanied by a grunt.

“I think I’m going to lock you and Kageyama-kun in a closet together.” This incites an intelligent answer.

“What.”

Keiji nods despite Atsumu not being able to see, his face buried into the pillow beside Keiji’s shoulder.

“Yep.” Keiji takes the liberty of running his fingers through Atsumu’s hair.

“Feels good,” Atsumu mumbles.

“I thought your hair would be more brittle since it’s bleached.”

Atsumu doesn’t answer unless curling his fingers around Keiji’s waist counts.

“So, not to be presumptuous or label you, or whatever it is that kids find offensive these days, but are you gay?”

Given that Atsumu is speaking to the pillow, it takes Keiji a minute or two to decipher that Atsumu said, “Anything human.”

“What kind of an answer is that?”

Moving to face (and glower at) Keiji’s shoulder, Atsumu asks, “Would you like me to be more _specific_?”

“Yes.”

“I like anyone _sexy_ and human.”

“Thanks for the clarification. Are you hungry?”

“Remember what I said when we met?”

For no reason other than because he can, Keiji flicks Atsumu’s forehead. He watches as Atsumu’s eyes close upon the approaching of his fingers, his eyelashes like centipedes. Thick and clustered, they seem long enough to fall against his cheeks. Pretty. 

Keiji’s wanted to play matchmaker ever since Yukie convinced him to read her romance novels and mangas during freshman year. He’s glad the opportunity presented itself with a reasonably attractive candidate; it should make the job much easier.

Atsumu’s eyes open, and Keiji opens his hand up, shoving it against Atsumu’s face. “Do you have cereal?” Atsumu’s lips brush against Keiji’s palm.

“Yes.”

“Frosted flakes?”

“Of course.”

“If you bring me a bowl, I’ll love you until the end of time.” Light brown eyes stare at Keiji through the cracks of his fingers.

“Maybe I don’t want your love until the end of time,” Keiji says, raising his eyebrows as if to challenge Atsumu.

“Mean.”

“I’ll be back.”

 

 

X

 

 

Keiji watches as Atsumu puts his toothbrush away in the wrong spot. It only internally drives him mad, but he’ll patiently wait until Atsumu leaves the bathroom to quietly adjust it.

“Do you feel like doing anything today?” Atsumu asks, exiting the bathroom while Keiji moves the toothbrush. “Thanks for feeding me, by the way. And for sharing your toothbrush.”

“You’re welcome.” Keiji steps into his bedroom with Atsumu and takes a seat on the bed. “I feel inclined to make a master plan to get you and your crush together.”

“Whatever floats your boat, muffin.”

“To do so,” Keiji grabs a pen on his end table, “could you hand me that notebook over there?” Atsumu grabs the composition book off of Keiji’s dresser before sitting in front of Keiji. “I need a better understanding of your relationship with Kageyama.”

“Pretty sure he hates me.”

Keiji jots down a note. “Phase one, and we’re already at a roadblock,” he clucks his tongue with the complete intention to annoy Atsumu.

It’s fun. It really shouldn’t be, but it’s fun. It’s fun to see the way Atsumu rolls his eyes to the back of his head and the way he looks at Keiji with only half of his iris visible and his lips planted in a straight line.

“I don’t need your help to get a boyfriend,” Atsumu pouts.

“Then prove it.”

“Fuck you.”

“I decline.”

There’s the look again. The one that Keiji’s already decided he loves after only knowing Atsumu a few days.

It makes him smile.

“Why exactly does he hate you?”

“I basically called him a bitch at training camp, and, like, a month later, I told his tiny friend I’d toss to him, giving off ‘I’mma steal your boyfriend’ vibes,” Atsumu explains, leaning back against the bed, so his head hangs off the edge.

“That’s really unsettling, Atsumu, it looks like you’ve been decapitated.”

“It’s comfortable; try it.”

Keiji is no bitch, so he tosses his pen and book aside and lies next to Atsumu, both of their heads hanging off the bed.

He doesn’t know if they’re at the point in their friendship when they can do and say absolutely nothing without any awkwardness yet, but they’re on their way because Keiji doesn’t feel any obligation to make small talk.

Instead, Keiji thinks about how Atsumu smells like peaches and how peaches remind him of the pie his grandmother makes and how his grandmother’s house reminds him of chasing after ice cream trucks, which reminds him of Atsumu taking a leaf out of his hair, and suddenly, Keiji is flushed.

It’s more embarrassing looking back at it than when it was actually happening.

“Have you come up with a plan yet?”

“Nope.” Keiji shakes his head. And he instantly regrets drawing attention to his face.

“You're blushing.” Even though he’s looking away, Keiji can tell Atsumu is grinning like a twelve year old who just found his older brother’s porn.

“Shut up, Atsumu.”

“You look cute when you do that.”

“Your gay is showing.”

“I'm not gay.”

“If you like boys, you’re gay.”

“But I also like girls. And everyone — as long as they’re hot.”

“You’re gay.” Keiji knows he’s being a complete mook, but it’s distracting Atsumu from the fact that he’s still blushing.

“Don’t label me,” Atsumu sasses, pushing Keiji’s shoulder.

And pushing Keiji off the bed.

Luckily, Keiji doesn’t fall before he can grab Atsumu’s arm with a grip that sends the message: “if I’m going down, you’re going down with me, dipshit.”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t so lucky. It damn hurt when Atsumu’s face planted into Keiji’s chest, and now their legs are tangled, and Atsumu’s arm is awkwardly tucked between them while the other one is still held by Keiji, and Keiji’s almost one hundred percent sure Atsumu just licked his shirt.

“Atsumu.”

He grunts in response.

“You're gay.”

Atsumu’s arm slides out from beneath him and props him up. “Y’know what, Keiji?”

“What?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Well, you’re going to have to leave first — unless you’re into that sort of thing,” Keiji deadpans. Keiji assumes Atsumu is indeed into that sort of thing because, well, he can feel it. Literally.

“I hate you, and we’ve only been friends two and a half days.” By now, Atsumu has broken into a full-on blush, but he maintains eye contact.

“What did I do?”

“I'm just gonna go fuck myself now. See you later.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Bye!” Atsumu gets off of Keiji with unjust enthusiasm, and maybe he was right about grey sweatpants being the ultimate sex pant because fuck. _Fuck_.

Keiji regrets everything.

Especially when his eyes seem to gravitate toward Atsumu’s ass (that must have added at least ten pounds to the weight that was crushing Keiji) as he exits the room.

Keiji only has half a minute to process what happened before he hears familiar feminine voices call him from another room. “Keiji! We’re home!”

He yells a greeting back, but he isn’t ready to get up yet. Curse his teenage, absurdly high libido.

 

 

X

 

 

Keiji receives a snapchat from Atsumu demanding his phone number around 8:03 in the evening. Not too long after, he receives a call.

“Hey,” Atsumu says. His voice sounds deeper over the phone.

“Hi.” There’s a silence, like neither of them know what to say, so Keiji adds, “Sorry about this morning.”

“Let’s forget about it.”

“It’s hard.”

Despite laughing for a second or two, Atsumu replies, “If that was intended, we can’t be friends anymore.”

“If what was intended?” Keiji asks sarcastically.

“Wow, I think I love you.”

“Yep.” An awkward silence. Keiji fiddles with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu answers quietly. “Later.”

“Later.”

He doesn’t have much time to contemplate what that phone call meant before his mother waltzes into his room.

“Hey, baby!” Her arms open like the jaws of a Venus flytrap.

“Hi.” Keiji hugs her back, awkwardly and loosely. “Mother?”

“Yes?”

“You know I’m gay, right?”

“We kind of figured since you never bring any girls home.” Releasing Keiji from her hold, she walks toward his bed and takes a seat, then tapping the sheets beside her until her son joins. “So…”

“So.”

“So do you have a crush on anyone?” She grins wider than Keiji does at the prospect of free food. And he _loves_ free food.

“No, boys are so annoying.”

“You think everyone’s annoying, honey.” She reaches out to pinch Keiji’s cheek. “Always have. Even when you were two, if you knew we’d bring you somewhere with people, you’d twist your face like when I fed you a lemon.”

“You fed me a lemon?”

“Only once. Anyway, that’s not the point. I wanna know if you like someone despite how annoying he is.”

“I do not.”

“If you do, I better be the first to know, Keiji.” She gives his cheeks one last pinch.

 

 

X

 

 

It’s nine in the morning when Keiji opens his door to see a familiar head of blond hair and hazel eyes with golden flecks, heart-stoppingly highlighted in the sunlight.

“‘Sup,” Atsumu greets.

“Hey.” Neither of them move, but Keiji takes the liberty of checking to make sure Atsumu isn’t wearing grey sweatpants today. There are two books in his hand. Keiji tries to read the title, but Atsumu’s fingers curl over the spine.

“I’m feeling real objectified, Keiji, stop.”

“I was trying to read the book title.” Technically, it’s not a lie.

“Whatever,” Atsumu hands Keiji a book. “Can I come in?” Not waiting for an answer, he pushes past Keiji and reclaims his spot at the kitchen counter while Keiji locks the front door.

By the time Keiji sits, Atsumu has already opened up the novel, _To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before_ , Keiji learns.

“I know you’re going to camp in, like, a day, so I thought I’d give you this to read, and then we can talk about it when you get back.”

“Sounds good.” Keiji opens his copy. “What's this about?”

“This girl’s little sister sends out the love letters she wrote to five dudes, and then she pretends to date one so the other doesn’t know she liked him.”

“Do you have any secretly-written love letters?”

“Do I look like I'm literate?”

“Well, now that you ask…” Keiji trails off; “it’s okay, if you ever want to send one to Kageyama-kun, I can write it for you.”

Atsumu slams his book shut, a smile growing on his face. There’s a glint in his eyes that gives Keiji the feeling that whatever he’s about to say isn’t going to be pleasant. “You’d do that for me?”

“Duh, I just said so,” Keiji answers without thinking.

“Right now?”

“You want me to write now?”

Atsumu nods, leaning closer to Keiji. “You ready?”

“Sure.” Keiji pulls up the notes section of his phone.

“Dear Tobio-kun, You,” Atsumu pauses emphatically, now smiling ear to ear, “must be a chicken… ‘cause you’re impeccable!” He speaks with a sardonic tone that Keiji imagines will be lost in writing. “Love, A better setter than you.”

“You’re an asshole.” That doesn’t stop Keiji from writing it down, though.

 

 

X

 

 

This time, Keiji is the one standing in front of Atsumu’s door (just at six in the morning).

Atsumu’s hair is a mess, strands sticking out like tree branches. There are dark circles under his eyes, but the corners of his mouth quirk upward when he looks at Keiji.

“Bring it in, BFF,” Atsumu says, opening his arms, which Keiji awkwardly steps into, not spreading his arms until after he feels Atsumu’s hand clap his backpack.

“I’ll call.”

“You fuckin’ better.” Atsumu musses Keiji’s hair before pushing him away.

 

 

X

 

 

“Akaashi-san.” a familiar voice rings in his ears.

Tsukishima Kei. He isn’t friends with Kageyama, as far as Keiji is concerned, but Keiji is sure they must at least know enough about each other that Keiji can inquire, so to speak.

“Tsukishima-kun,” Keiji finishes placing the end of the volleyball net before walking toward Tsukishima and his green-haired appendage, “Yamaguchi-kun. Where’s Kageyama?”

“He failed his exams. So did Hinata. They’ll be here in the afternoon.”

“Again?” Keiji only inwardly rolls his eyes and outwardly raises his eyebrows, like he’s surprised. “We didn’t have anyone fail this year since Bokuto-san is gone. Anyway, practice isn’t starting for another hour, so let’s catch up, shall we?”

Tsukishima tosses a glance to Yamaguchi when Keiji takes both of their wrists and leads them to the bleachers. It’s the kind of glance, accompanied by slow moving, that says “I didn’t sign up for this; can we go please?”

“Are Kageyama and Hinata boyfriends?” Keiji blurts.

The second-years share another glance.

Keiji’s voice gets quieter as he speaks, “I need an answer, Tsukishima-kun.”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi begins before his friend cuts him off.

“Probably not, but they want to be.”

“What about you two?” Keiji admits, this question has nothing to do with Atsumu and Kageyama’s nonexistent romance, but rather his own curiosity (he and Kuroo made a wager on them last year).

“Undecided.” Tsukishima speaks coolly although Keiji catches light pink dusting across his cheeks.

“Tsukishima, you can't just say our relationship is undecided; it’s not like choosing your major or something!”

“Why?” Tsukishima drones. “Relationships take ridiculous effort and time, like pursuing a major.”

Keiji sees Yamaguchi’s jaw drop and his eyebrows decline at a 45 degree angle. Keiji thinks it’s time for catching up to end because Yamaguchi’s _vocal_ disapproval of whatever Tsukishima said is surely coming next.

 

 

X

 

 

“Kageyama-kun,” Keiji calls out when he sees Kageyama heading toward class 2-6, where Karasuno is sleeping.

Kageyama stops beside the bathroom as Keiji approaches him.

“Have you seen Hinata? I wanted to practice with him and Tsukishima-kun.”

Kageyama shakes his head and begins on his merry way, but Keiji stops him by stepping in front, and yes, this may have lead to a wet-haired, fresh out of the shower Kageyama dripping on Keiji’s face, but Keiji makes sacrifices in the name of love. So, he pulls the note he wrote out of his sweat-shorts.

“One more thing, Kageyama-kun,” Keiji says as he hands the note over, “this is from Miya Atsumu.”

As if on cue, Hinata frolics out from the bathroom, singing what Keiji thinks is the word “toilet,” repeatedly until he sees Kageyama unfolding the note. “Whatcha got there, Bakageyama?” He jumps on either side of Kageyama, looking over his shoulders to read the note. Kageyama attempts to swat him away, but Hinata ducks and manages to grab the note, only ripping the lower corner off.

“Dumbass!” Kageyama pushes Hinata, his fingertips just barely grazing Hinata’s shirt as the latter runs away.

“‘Dear Tobio-kun,” Hinata reads in a high-pitched voice, “you must be a chicken.’ They think you’re a scaredy-cat, Kageyama!”

“What?!” Kageyama runs faster down the hall, and really, Keiji is struggling to keep up.

“‘Because you’re im…’” Hinata continues to read.

“Impeccable, Hinata-kun,” Keiji helps.

“Impeccable! ‘Love, a better setter than you’! Do you hear that Kageyama? This guy’s better than you! Was it you, Akaas—” Hinata’s question turns into unintelligible shouts when Kageyama tackles him. In the middle of the hallway. The way their arms are getting tangled together as Kageyama noogies Hinata (and calls him a dumbass) looks painful, but, if Keiji’s being honest, he’s glad they’re on the floor now because he’s done enough running for the day.

“Kageyama-kun, do you have a response for Atsumu?”

The second-years must have forgotten they aren’t alone because their eyes widen as they whip their heads around, and all their movements cease. They stare up at Keiji with doe-eyes.

Adorable.

“It wasn’t a joke?” Kageyama asks.

“No, he’s staying across the street from me for the summer,” Keiji clarifies, understanding that it must be confusing, receiving a letter from a Hyogo boy via a Tokyo boy.

“Understood.” Kageyama pushes, quite literally shoves, Hinata off of him, dusts off his shoulder, and calmly proceeds down the hall into 2-6.

 

 

X  

 

 

 

 

10:53 p.m.

From: BFF


	4. The Rainbow Boy and His Lego Death Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji thinks he may have this unheard of thing called feelings, and the story picks up the pace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I proofread in chunks sry if I missed shit  
> alrighty pls enjoy love you thanks

Okay, maybe Keiji made a mistake. He shouldn’t have rushed in with the sorry excuse for a love letter; he admits it. But he also admits that he really wanted to see the look on Kageyama’s face (which was disappointingly calm) when he read it, or heard Hinata read it.

“Keiji, I've been thinking.” Atsumu’s voice comes in staticky over the phone.

“Oh, no,” Keiji says in feign worry, his fingers twiddling with the spring door stopper beside him.

“Oh, yes,” Atsumu corrects. “I was thinking maybe we should just ask Tobio to hang out on the weekend, if that’s allowed — or if it isn’t allowed; I don’t really care either way.”

“Don’t you want to make sure he likes you first?”

“Nah.”

“Atsumu, what chapter are you on in the book?”

“Thirty-something.”

“Okay, you know how they’re fake dating, right?”

“Um, are you actually ahead of me?” Atsumu says, and he almost sounds offended. “It’s been, like, four days since you’ve left, Keiji.”

“No, I’m on chapter ten, but I watched the movie with Kaori. Anyway, have you gotten to that part yet?”

“Yes..?”

“I think we should pretend to be dating if we find out that Kageyama likes you, and then that will hopefully incite jealousy as you continue to grow closer with him.”

“Hopefully,” Atsumu enunciates the key word.

“We already know — we need a code name for him — is the jealous type because he was of Hinata last year when he practiced with Bokuto-san, Kuroo-san, and me, so I’m pretty sure it’ll work.”

“What, are you in public?”

“I’m sitting on the floor in the hallway outside my team’s classroom’s door.”

“Tobio will be Volleyball-kun, then.”

Keiji smiles to himself, finding it apt that Atsumu picked the thing Kageyama would fall in love with fifty times harder than an actual human being. “Nice.”

“Thank you, it’s inspired by his Instagram aesthetic.”

“I'm glad you’re paying attention to your maybe-soon-to-be boyfriend’s Instagram aesthetic.”

“Whatever, Keiji,” Atsumu says playfully, rolling his eyes. “What chapter are you on?”

“Fifteen.”

“So, what do you think so far?”

“I think that my teammates are making fun of me.”

“Wow, Keiji. You know that isn’t what I was asking, but good to know. Now you can come out as a rainbow boy.”

“I read that book.”

“That’s a book?”

“Yes, Yukie made me read it after I told her I’m gay. It was cute and fucked up.”

“Just like you.”

Keiji is almost taken aback. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Am I not allowed to flirt with my fake boyfriend?”

“We’re already doing that?”

“Of course we are! I’ve always wanted a fake relationship. You know, just to try it. The lovey-dovey shit,” Atsumu’s voice declines in volume with each sentence.

“Alright, let's make a list of rules.”

“What’s with you and lists?”

“It’s a fetish.”

“Good to know.” Keiji can tell Atsumu is winking just from the way his voice deepens.

“Rule number one: we only do romantic gestures for public display.”

“Rule number two: if we’re in public, we have to hold hands,” Atsumu fires back.

“Three: You can call me anything but ‘baby’.”

“Four: You can call me whatever.”

“This should probably be in writing, but five: we have to post to your Instagram if Kageyama comments on your posts.”

“It’s okay, Keiji, I have impeccable memory.”

“You know,” Keiji sighs, “every time I hear that word, I’m going to think of a chicken. And Volleyball-kun.”

“Akaashi!” Kaori singsongs his name as she opens the classroom door and takes in front of Keiji.

Keiji can hear Atsumu laughing when he says, “I’ll call you back later. Or tomorrow.”

“Bye, babe,” Atsumu answers before the line goes dead.

“You should lower the volume on your phone,” Kaori smiles at Keiji.

“I should; shouldn’t I?”

Kaori’s grin grows wider as she reaches over to put her hand on Keiji’s knee.

Keiji’s face submits to its natural exasperation.

“Who’s calling you his babe?”

“My new boyfriend.”

“Who? Who? Who!” Kaori exclaims, nearly jumping off the floor. Her grip on Keiji tightens. “Dude, this is huge. We gotta tell Yukie!”

“Can you do me a favor, Kaori?” Keiji leans closer to her.

“Yes!”

“Don’t tell anyone I have a boyfriend for the next 24 hours, and then I’ll tell you who.”

“When did this happen, Akaashi-san?!”

“You know that using an honorific isn’t going to make me more inclined to share details, right?”

Kaori spares Keiji a wink. “But you know you want to.”

Keiji shakes his head.

“Come on, Akaashi! I’ll even tell you about that super awkward conversation I had with you know who yesterday!”

Keiji wants to laugh at her, but he was raised to be polite, so he won’t.

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you anyway.” She reaches over to slam the classroom door shut.

 

X

 

Keiji is drying his hair beside Kageyama in the bathroom when he strays from the discussion topic of favorite nail files. “Do you think your coach would let you guys sleepover at my house Saturday since it’s our rest day?”

Kageyama stops moving his towel and stares blankly at Keiji through the mirror. “Is Miya going to be there?”

Keiji returns the dead stare. “Do you want him to be?”

“I’d like to play volleyball with him.”

“Then yes.”

“Hinata will ask for permission.”

Kageyama returns to roughly drying his hair, and Keiji’s resting bitch-face suddenly evolves, with his lips quirking upward.

 

X

 

Perhaps this wasn’t as good an idea as Keiji had thought. Okay, it definitely wasn’t as good an idea as Keiji had thought. Kageyama, Hinata, and Atsumu are attempting to play indoor volleyball — in the Akaashi family household — and Keiji swears to the lord if there is one, if they break his lego Death Star, he will break them apart limb by limb.

Kenma, however, sits with Keiji on the floor and plays monster hunter while Keiji watches Atsumu receive every toss Hinata hits in the small meter wide and long area they play in.

“I get to toss to Shrimpy next round,” Atsumu declares a second before Keiji rises and grabs the volleyball midair.

“Next round will have to be tomorrow — in an area designated for volleyball, if you don’t mind,” Keiji says, keeping the ball at his hip.

“But playing at risk of breaking your Death Star makes the game more fun,” Atsumu drawls lazily, making it hard for Keiji to detect his sarcasm.

To say Atsumu and Keiji have grown close these past 11 days is a gross understatement. They’ve shared details about past crushes and relationships that they haven’t shared even with their best friends; they’ve slept in the same bed; they’ve called three out of the five days Keiji was at training camp and texted for hours on the other two; they’ve hugged — and Keiji never hugs anyone unless there are familial obligations; they’ve even baked cookies together.

But one thing Keiji hasn’t done with Atsumu is discuss how much he loves that ridiculous Death Star he built back in middle school.

“I’ll be right back. Does anyone want anything to drink or eat?” Keiji asks, tugging on Atsumu’s sleeve with his free hand.

Hinata jumps zealously while the others shake their heads.

“Miya Atsumu,” Keiji says as he pulls Atsumu out of his room.

Atsumu grins, closing the door behind them. “Akaashi Keiji.”

“How’d you know the importance of the Death Star to my frail little heart?”

“One: you were watching it like a hawk every time Tobio-kun tossed. Two: you just look like a geek.”

Keiji scoffs, the volleyball almost slipping down his fingers, but he pulls himself together in a zeptosecond. “Fair enough.” He sticks the ball in Atsumu’s hands. “Don’t you dare toss it.”

Trailing behind, Atsumu nods and walks to the kitchen.

“You’re such a good host, Keiji.”

Keiji’s fingers grip the carton of orange juice tighter as his fingers sweat. He’s still not used to being called by his given name — definitely not by someone with a Kansai accent. Atsumu always drags on the _e_ , not that Keiji minds. In fact, he finds it endearing.

“Aren’t I?” Keiji finishes pouring the glass until it’s nearly at the rim. “Let’s discuss something more important, now, like the sleeping situation.”

“We’ll figure it out later.”

 

X

 

Hinata and Kenma fell asleep three hours ago on Keiji’s bed while playing monster hunter. Keiji snores quietly on the floor beside Atsumu. Kageyama, on the other hand, is sitting under his blanket with his back propped against the foot of the bed, staring straight ahead.

“What’re you doing awake?” Atsumu whispers.

“Thinking about how we crushed you at nationals last year,” Kageyama whispers back.

Atsumu tosses Kageyama a glare, but he fights the urge to punch his easily accessible shoulder. “I’m gonna pummel you this year, my sweet Tobio-kun.”

“Your best spiker graduated.”

It seems like everything Kageyama says gets under Atsumu’s skin, but he supposes Kageyama feels the same way — or at least he did when they met at training camp. “I still have my dispassionate brother and Ginny.”

“Ginny?”

“Yeah, he was in the match, remember?”

Kageyama shakes his head.

“Whatever. We’re gonna stuff lil’ shrimpy over there.” Atsumu looks over to the lump on the bed.

“Everybody stuffs Hinata.”

For once in his life, Atsumu recognizes that he may not be able to win this argument, so he changes the subject. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Isn’t Instagram for answering questions like that?” Kageyama asks, wholly serious.

“Tobio-kun, sweetheart, you only post volleyballs on your Instagram.”

“Once I posted Hinata eating the court.”

“Y’know what it means when you post someone on your social media, don’t you, Tobio-kun?” Atsumu asks with a sly grin.

“It means they’re on your social media.”

“It means things are _steady_.”

“Hinata’s not steady; he can barely walk in a straight line.”

“Your _relationship_ is steady.”

Kageyama’s face twists in what is unmistakably disgust. “Are you insinuating what I think you are?”

“If y’think I’m insinuating you and shrimpy are goin’ steady, yes.”

“You’re wrong.”

“So you aren’t dating?”

“He probably has a crush on our manager.”

“How cute,” Atsumu coos before he can stop himself. “Jealous?”

“What? No!” Kageyama whisper-shouts considerately.

“C’mon, you wanna go steady with Shouyou.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do not.”

“Do too,” Kageyama says, cursing a second later when he hears Atsumu’s loud laugh and realizes he’s been swindled.

“You’re so cute, Tobio-kun.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re cute, Tobio-kun,” Atsumu’s voice grows lower as he speaks. Kageyama _is_ cute, with his wide, innocent blue eyes and pinchable cheeks; Atsumu is drastically endeared.

“So are you.”

Atsumu did not expect such a response.

Nor did he want such a response because if Kageyama confesses already, the fake dating plan is over, and Atsumu is a bit more excited than he should be to be Keiji’s pretend-boyfriend for the summer.

Yet he pries, “Didja just call me cute?”

“No, shut up.” Kageyama’s blanket swooshes when he pulls it over his head in record time.

“Goodnight, Tobio-kun.”

Atsumu takes Tobio’s lack of a response as his cue to quietly roll over to Keiji and curl his arms around his disturbingly attractive “BFF.”

 

X

 

Keiji’s guests head to the park once they’ve eaten breakfast (and made a total mess of the dining room), but Atsumu lingers.

“I had a heartfelt talk with Tobio-kun last night.”

“Really?” Keiji asks, drying the last dish Atsumu washed.

“No,” Atsumu shakes his head and wipes his hands on a tea towel, “but I’m pretty sure he called me cute.”

“Fantastic,” Keiji says without intonation. He feels Atsumu’s arms wrap around his waist and a warm chest against his back. “What is happening?”

“You’re my fake boyfriend, and I get to hug my fake boyfriend.”

“Nobody’s here?”

“I’m helping you get used to affection, so if I touch you in front of other people, you won’t give me that ‘what the fuck’ look.”

“What ‘what the fuck’ look?”

“The one you just gave me when you tried to turn around.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keiji says, setting aside the plate and placing a hand over Atsumu’s.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Keiji leans back into Atsumu’s warmth.

“Anyway, I told Tobio-kun that when you post others on your social media, it means you’re going steady, so let me put a heart emoji and today’s date in my bio and take a picture of our hands.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“It was your idea,” Atsumu reminds, pulling out his phone and taking a snapshot of Keiji’s fingers curled under his, against one of Keiji’s controversial-political-statement shirts. “It’ll be up by the afternoon.”

Keiji would like to temporarily withdraw his idea, make a pro and con list, and decide whether to permanently be rid of it or to give it back to Atsumu, but he’s learned that he likes hugs. A lot. Too much.

“Come back alone next weekend; we’ll invoke envy solely via social media,” Atsumu says with a smile.

“I’ll think about it.” Keiji pulls Atsumu’s arm up, so their hands lie over his heart, and he makes the mistake of lacing their fingers together.

“I'm gonna send a snail mail love letter to you while you’re at training camp.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Keiji, you said you’d help me complete my bucket list.”

“Send your snail mail to your brother.”

“But I wanna send it to you,” Atsumu whispers into Keiji’s ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Oh my god, don’t do that again.”

“This?” He blows into Keiji’s ear, and Keiji’s first instinct is to scream, but he won’t give Atsumu the satisfaction.

“Fuck off.”

Another blow.

Surely, if Keiji were in the position to, he’d kill Atsumu right then and there, but instead he yelps.

“You’re so gay, Atsumu.”

“Watch it.”

KeijI would rather not piss off his new faux boyfriend, so he changes the subject. “We’ll go ice skating for our first date today?”

“Aww, you remember the list, Keiji; you’re so sweet.”

“Sure,” Keiji says dismissively, “go home and shower first.”

“Whatever you say, dollface.”

Keiji works with Atsumu to untangle from each other until they’re able to make eye contact.

Staring at Atsumu, with his big, fat grin, and his perfect, plump lips, and his beautiful, brown eyes, and his messy, golden hair, Keiji thinks he should stop having ideas. None of them seemed to cause him to make wise decisions lately. For instance, becoming Atsumu’s fake boyfriend? A fucking mistake.

Now Keiji has all these feelings, and he doesn’t even know what they are, and he doesn’t want to know what they are, but he knows they’re there, and they make him want to die but feel like he has a reason to live simultaneously.

“Keiji.”

“What?”

“I need you to let go of my hand if you want me to leave.”

Keiji yanks his fingers away like they’ve been bitten by a viper. Trusting that Atsumu can find his way out and will lock the front door, Keiji begins to walk toward his room.

“Bye, babe!” Atsumu calls, leaving the kitchen.

“Bye!” Keiji slams his bedroom door shut and grabs his phone.

It vibrates in his hand for a second or two before he lifts it to his ear and hears a high-pitched voice greeting him.

“Kaori, there’s a problem.”

“Deets.” She demands, and Keiji thinks he hears a giggle.

“You know Miya Atsumu?”

“Yeah, you gave me his Instagram. Isn’t he, like, an asshole?”

“Quasi. Anyway, long story short: I’m supposed to help him get a date with Kageyama, and now Atsumu’s my fake boyfriend, and I think I like him.”

“Wow.”

“Please don’t tell anyone he’s only my fake boyfriend.”

“You have a crush on your hot asshole neighbor slash fake boyfriend?”

“I said I _think_.”

“Akaashi, I was so excited to tell Yukie you‘re dating, and then you had to go and blow it with the fake malarkey.”

“I’m sorry, Kaori, I didn’t magically get to have a hot boyfriend within two weeks of meeting him.”

“Aww! You think he’s hot?”

“No, I said that because I think he looks like a troll.”

“Grumpykaashi.”

“Kaori, I’ve never actually wanted to be boyfriends with any guy I’ve crushed on before, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Weren’t you, like, in love with Bokuto at one point?”

“No, and if we dated, practice would’ve been awkward, so he couldn’t be my boyfriend.”

“Oh, so you wanna make a move on Atsumu since you’re probably never gonna see him again after the summer? Low risk, high reward? I see what you’re doing here, ‘Kaashi.”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Keiji sighs, beginning to pace in circles.

“But that’s what you’re thinking,” she says with one of those all-knowing voices that makes Keiji want to call her a little shit and hang up.

“Kaori, help please.”

“Kiss kiss, fall in love.”

“He has a crush on Kageyama.”

“You’re already Miya’s boyfriend, so why don’t you just kiss him and then see how he responds and take it from there?”

“Brilliant.”

 

X

 

Keiji’s fallen on his ass for the fiftieth time when he decides that he might be tired of ice skating. The only reason he keeps going is because he likes the way Atsumu’s laugh sounds, even if he’s laughing at Keiji’s expense.

One hug, and Keiji has a crush. And it fucking sucks.

Keiji sits on the ice, rubbing his arms to warm them up, when Atsumu takes off his pink hoodie and hands it to Keiji. “Thanks, boyfriend,” Keiji says.

“Anytime, boyfriend.” Atsumu extends his arm to Keiji, and Keiji grabs his hand after shrugging the hoodie on.

“Are you having fun?” Keiji lets Atsumu lead them around in the skating rink, not letting go of his hand.

“To be honest, this is kinda boring and repetitive, but I wanted to see how many times you’d fall before you’d say you wanna leave.”

Keiji can’t decide whether that’s worth an eye roll or a pull down to the ice, so he settles for a less-dramatic glare. “You’re so nice, Atsumu. I’m so glad you’re my boyfriend.”

“You flatter me.” Atsumu smiles, and, well, Keiji can’t be mad at him much longer. Atsumu has a smile that makes Keiji lose all thoughts and almost skate into the rink’s wall, but Keiji is perfectly content with that because Atsumu pulls him away first, and the smile is tinted with concern and complemented by subtly furrowed eyebrows. “You good?”

“As good as one can be while simultaneously dying internally, yes,” Keiji nods solemnly, taking his eyes off Atsumu and looking forward.

“As long as you don’t die externally, I guess. That shit’s permanent. Not ready to lose my first boyfriend yet.”

To that, Keiji makes an unintelligible noise followed by a “whatever” and buries his head in Atsumu’s shoulder.

Keiji doesn’t know what possessed him to ask Atsumu to go ice skating. One: he doesn’t know how to skate. Two: he hates the cold. Three: small, densely populated areas make him want to hiss at people (but he won't; he’s too nice).

Along to the classical ice skating music, Atsumu’s fingers tap against the back of Keiji’s hand. Maybe he wanted an excuse to want to hold Atsumu’s hand. Oh well, he’ll never know for sure, but he’s glad he asked because he just got a new hoodie. Atsumu can count on never seeing it again unless it’s on Keiji’s person.

 

X

 

Leaning back against his aunt’s front door, Atsumu asks, “You know it’s, like, a billion degrees out, right?”

Yes, Keiji is aware when he feels sweat accumulating in his sleeves. He doesn’t entertain Atsumu with a verbal answer, but he leans back on the steps so he can see Atsumu upside down and shakes his head.

“We could totally do a horizontal Spider-Man kiss right now.”

Keiji isn’t sure how he feels about losing his first kiss (if he doesn’t count that time Kuroo fell on him) to his fake boyfriend even if Kaori insists, so he blows a kiss and leans back so his head touches Atsumu’s knees.

“Keiji, I think you should post that picture of our hands instead of me.”

“Why’s that?” Keiji deadpans.

“Because you look really pretty right now, and I kinda just wanna post this picture I took when you weren’t looking.”

Keiji knows he’s pretty. He’s been called a pretty boy since he was two months old, and he’s grown rather numb to the term. Yet, hearing the word coming from Atsumu, Keiji feels heat rise to his cheeks. “Fuck you.”

Atsumu raises his hands in the air defensively as though Keiji can see. “Alright, I won’t post it.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Letting his fingers slide into the mess of thick curls atop Keiji’s head, Atsumu cocks a curious brow. “Can I as—”

“No,” Keiji interrupts, “you may not.”

“But I can put you on my snap, right?”

“I thought you wanted to post to Instagram.”

“People check snap more often, and I want everyone to know my boyfriend is real fuckin’ hot.”

“Probably because we’re sitting outside in the middle of the summer afternoon.”

A toothy grin spreads across Atsumu’s cheeks as he twirls Keiji’s hair. He pulls the cotton-candy-pink hood over Keiji’s head. “I’m never getting this back, am I?”

Keiji pulls down the hood and meets Atsumu’s eyes to answer by sticking out his tongue.

“Whatever, it looks better on you, anyways.”


	5. Emoji Shorts and McDonalds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to proof read again (key word: tried) sry if there r mistakes anyway enjoy lol

The air conditioning in Jeanette’s bakery is overpowered, and she doesn’t let anyone, including her adorable nephew, adjust it. Icing a carrot cake with the hairs of his arms at attention, Atsumu thinks it’d be nice to have his hoodie, but he also thinks maybe letting Keiji keep it is his way of giving back (he’s stolen a total of six hoodies from his teammates back in Hyogo).

Keiji just looked so cute in it, with the way it fit just a tad too loose, that Atsumu couldn’t bear to take it back.

Fuck, maybe he really is gay.

“Atsumu,” Osamu drawls, dragging out his brother’s name, from the speaker of Atsumu’s iPhone.

“Oh, right, I forgot we were on FaceTime.”

“Suna sent me your recent Insta post.”

“You know, if you’d just unblock me already, he wouldn’t have to.” Atsumu begins to pipe decorative pink flowers along the edge of the cake.

“Yeah, don’t really care. Anyway,” Osamu takes another bite of his hoagie, “is he your boyfriend now? Suna and I need to know for the purpose of gathering blackmail material.”

“If I talk to you about it, you can’t tell Suna.”

“Are you asking me to keep a secret from my favorite boyfriend? ‘Cause that’s not gonna happen, buckaroo.”

“Please.”

“Aww, since you asked so nicely…”

“Finish your sentence.”

“I’ll shut up,” Osamu’s lips curve into a smile that Atsumu knows by now is only deceivingly sweet.

Yet Atsumu grins back. He’s wanted to talk to someone about his fake relationship since Keiji left this morning, and honestly, he’s terrible at keeping secrets, so he thinks it’s best that he spills to someone who’s in another prefecture.

“He’s so cute, ‘Samu. He doesn’t even like ice skating, but he went with me anyway because he knew I wanted to do it, and then he stole my hoodie, and I think I really, really like him.”

“He probably doesn’t like you,” Osamu says nonchalantly, and Atsumu almost frosts an elongated flower when he turns his eyes to the phone’s camera to glare at his brother.

“You’re lucky we’re not in the same room right now.”

“I know, that’s why I said it. I’m taking advantage of our distance as much as possible, and I suggest you do as well, and when we get back, we can either beat the shit out of each other or eat pudding together in peace.”

“Probably both.”

“You’re so violent; you’d be a terrible boyfriend.”

“No, when Keiji messes with me, I just sort of wanna kiss him. Like, he could step on me — with cleats — and I’d still give him a hug not even a second later.”

“What about when you both get old and he isn’t cute anymore?”

“Okay, one: Keiji will always be cute. Two: I’ve never wanted to hit anyone other than you and Tobio-kun, but I can’t hit Tobio-kun because he’s too cute and innocent.”

“Why you wanna hit Tobio-kun? Tonya Harding complex? And he probably isn’t that innocent; I’ll bet you a six pack of pudding that he and shrimpy already smashed.”

“You’re a terrible human being, y’know that, ‘Samu?”

“Yes. Where’s my pudding?”

Thinking back to his conversation with Tobio two nights ago, Atsumu says, “They probably haven’t even kissed.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ll fucking ask.”

“How are you gonna pressure him into answering over the phone? It only works like that in real life, dude.”

“I’ll see him next weekend.”

“What?”

“Karasuno is in Tokyo.”

“Omg… is Saeko-san gonna be there?”

“Did you just say ‘omg’?” Atsumu rolls his eyes.

“Answer the question, ‘Tsumu.”

“No, she isn’t gonna be there.”

“How come you don’t sound upset?”

“‘Cause I have a real crush. Like, one who isn’t five years older. One day, you’ll understand,” Atsumu says dreamily with a faint smile.

“Um, understanding things is what my husband is for, thanks.”

This time, Atsumu actually does fuck up the cake by making the flower petal three times longer than it should be, but he’ll just scrape it off and draw over it. He’s dropped the piping bag and flung his hand over his mouth to cover his laughter. “Suna’s dumb as shit.”

“Hey, he’s just lazy and doesn’t do his homework and falls asleep every exam, but he has decent analysis skills when he uses that little brain.”

“Whatever. Can’t be dumber than you, anyway.”

Cleaning off his apron, Atsumu doesn’t receive a response, which, really, is unusual given Osamu takes every opportunity to roast Atsumu, and every opportunity means every time something comes out of Atsumu’s mouth.

Atsumu glances at the phone screen: ceiling and a fan. It isn’t until he’s already cleaned up the area that he hears Suna scream a greeting into the speaker (and he makes a mess again; Jeanette’s going to murder him).

“Atsumu, you have a new boyfriend?” Suna asks, dragging out the vowels of each word with one of those stupid, shit-eating grins.

That is when the red end call button is tapped.

 

X

 

“You’re the worst, Akaashi-san!” Hinata, staring up at him from the wooden floor on the other side of the net, says with his little country bumpkin accent that endears Keiji so.

“You have to improve on reading your opponents’ moves, Hinata-kun.”

Keiji hears a “dumbass” from Kageyama and the sound of Tsukishima snickering. Today, they have Lev and Yamamoto joining them, so there’s been a significant increase in the bickering and all-around foolishness, but it reaches a new peak when Lev says, “I’m tired! Wanna play a game?”

“We are playing a game, Lev-kun,” Keiji reminds.

“No, like solitaire!”

“How about never-have-I-ever?!” Hinata suggests.

Now, normally, Keiji would dismiss petty games because volleyball is boundlessly superior to all other pastimes, but this time he sees not a petty game but a chance to act as a spy and probe Kageyama Tobio.

“No,” Tsukishima deadpans, But Keiji grabs Tsukishima’s wrist as if to say: we’re playing, and you’re staying.

“Yes,” Keiji dares disagree with Karasuno’s local giant, as do Lev and Yamamoto.

Kageyama stays silent, but Hinata throws his arm around Kageyama’s shoulder (or at least he tries to, reaching his upper back instead), so nobody leaves.

“Hinata, you first,” Keiji commands, smiling to himself about his practiced delegation skills.

“Never have I ever lost to a scrub!”

Kageyama is the only one to put his finger down after Hinata reminds him of the race he lost last week.

“Hinata-kun, did you just call yourself a scrub?” Keiji asks.

Hinata spouts a vehement “no way” and takes a seat on the court. Everyone else is quick to follow suit.

“Never have I ever called myself a scrub,” Kageyama says.

“Never have I ever had a crush on a scrub,” Tsukishima challenges before Hinata even has a second to put his finger down.

A suddenly Kageyama is only left with eight fingers. As is Lev.

Yamamoto takes notice. “Never have I ever cheated on my captain’s little sister,” he practically spits at Lev, who still has nine fingers. “That’s what I thought.”

“Never have I ever had a crush on an adversary,” Keiji smiles, putting a finger down. Kageyama, Lev, and Hinata do the same.

“Hey, that’s the same thing as the scrub question! You’re tryna get me out!” Lev accuses, but Keiji simply shoves a hand over Lev’s mouth. “Never have I ever betrayed my adversary friend’s trust and totally called him out!” Lev says, his voice muffled. Keiji is left with eight fingers.

“Put your finger down, Lev, you just called me out.”

While Yamamoto seems to find this hilarious, Lev is a sore, sulking loser.

“Never have I ever kissed someone,” Hinata smiles, staring at Kageyama’s fingers and gasping when he sees one fall.

“Never have I ever kissed a boy.” As expected, Keiji, Tsukishima, and Tobio are the only ones who lose fingers, so Keiji, out of turn, continues, “Never have I ever kissed another volleyball player.” Another three fingers go down.

“Kageyama!” Hinata grabs his teammate’s shoulders and shakes. “Who?!” Who?! You gotta tell me who!”

“Never have I ever kissed another setter.” Keiji tries and fails to conceal a grin when only Kageyama loses a finger.

“Never have I ever kissed Oikawa!” Hinata exclaims, hopping aboard the “find out Kageyama’s first setter kiss train.”

“Never have I ever kissed Sugawara Koshi,” Tsukishima adds. Still three fingers.

“Never have I ever kissed Miya Atsumu,” Keiji continues. Two fingers left.

After a series of “ooh”s and “ha, gay”s, Hinata says, “Never have I ever wanted to kiss Miya Atsumu!” He seems awfully triumphant, seeing Kageyama down to one finger, but his smug grin is soon replaced with a twist of confusion when he looks toward the present Fukurodani representative.

“Well, he’s my boyfriend, so…” Keiji thinks he need not explain the rest.

Kageyama gives no reaction, which, honestly is a tad disappointing because the decent human in Keiji is rooting for Atsumu and Kageyama since that’s what he agreed to make happen in the first place, but there’s a gratification in calling Atsumu _his_ boyfriend.

It feels natural coming out of his mouth.

“Boyfriend?” Hinata scratches his head with his index finger.

 _Boyfriend_. Keiji doesn’t really know what the word means, now that he thinks about it. What constitutes one as a boyfriend? Do they have to kiss? Go on dates? Know each other‘a favorite foods? Comfortably make crude jokes in each other’s presence? The more Keiji thinks, the less he knows.

“Uh-huh,” he nods anyway.

 

X

 

By the end of the next evening, the entire Fukurodani team — even the coach — is calling Keiji “rainbow boy” or “Miya Keiji,” and while that name is terribly endearing, he’s tired of it. The last time he called Atsumu, he had to constantly move to avoid his eavesdropping teammates (and manager).

Being pretend gay, in Keiji’s experience, is much harder than being genuinely and silently gay.

“This is so not worth it right now, but I’m charitable, so I’m going to keep up the facade. Just for you,” Keiji whispers harshly into his phone as he paces through the courtyard in pajamas and pool slides.

“Um, how is this relationship not worth it, Keiji? You get major bragging rights from dating me.”

“You get even better bragging rights from dating me,” Keiji counters, settling on a stone bench when he’s certain everyone else is inside the building.

“Come on, Keiji, we had a deal, baby. You help me, and I help you.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?”

“Babe,” Atsumu corrects himself.

“Whatever. Just hang out with me this weekend; my parents are going to be home.”

“Just us?” There’s a hint of excitement in Atsumu’s higher voice.

“And my moms. Sometimes.”

“Aww, Keiji, we’re gonna spend some super quality boyfriend time together!”

“Hilarious,” Keiji drones sarcastically. “They don’t need to know that we’re ‘dating.’”

A loud, histrionic gasp makes Keiji drop his phone in shock. He picks it up just in time to hear Atsumu’s almost mocking tone, “Are you embarrassed of me, Keiji?”

“Yes.”

“You thinkin’ you can do better?”

“Of course,” Keiji says, but he conveniently forgets to add “not.” If anything, Keiji thinks, Atsumu is in a league of his own.

“I mean, fuck you, but you’re absolutely right.”

Keiji’s eyebrows shoot up, and by shoot up, I mean so minisculely raise that only a microscope could show a noticeable difference. “You don’t think you could do better yourself?”

“Are you for real?”

“Yes.”

“You're fucking hot, dude. Like, really fucking hot. And you’re nice even when you’re being mean. And weird but the good kind of weird. The dumb t-shirt kind of weird. And you’re super fun to annoy, and you don’t get pissed. The epitome of boyfriend material, really,” Atsumu says, taking a deep breath afterward.

It’s almost as if the blood flow to Keiji’s brain is cut off, and he’s running on autopilot. “Yeah, you too,” Keiji answers. He’s formed this habit of saying things that he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t like it.

“Well,” Atsumu begins, and Keiji can hear the sound of Jeanette’s cat purring, “talk to you later, I guess.”

“Yeah, later, I guess.”

“What the fuck? Don’t hang up, you degenerate,” Atsumu groans.

The word ‘degenerate’ triggers Keiji’s usurping of control of his own brain. “But I thought you wanted to talk later.”

“Keiji, when you’re on the phone with your significant other, and they say bye, they don’t actually want you to go.”

“That’s annoying,” Keiji huffs.

“Yes, Keiji, relationships actually require thinking and reading your partner. Who would’ve thought?”

“Temporary partner.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re only temporarily partners.”

“You can stop being my boyfriend when you get me a new on-brand one.”

“Great, Atsumu. We’ve been friends two and a half weeks now. You should know I’m too socially awkward to be able to talk to guys and find you a brand spanking new boyfriend.” Keiji makes himself comfortable on his bench, lying across it.

“Actually, I’m being a stellar friend by propelling you toward social interaction,” Atsumu says with his make-believe matter-of-fact tone.

“I don’t like interacting with new people, though, and I don’t think you do, either. I think you should get a used, knock-off boyfriend.”

“Do I look like I buy the generic brand to you?”

“Well,” Keiji twirls a finger through his hair, “I can’t really see you right now — not that I’d want to — but I feel like you would. You already do.”

“I certainly don’t.”

“You know those weird shorts you wear? With the emojis on them? Off-brand and broken in, _yet_ you keep returning to them, for whatever reason. They’re a fashion abomination.”

“My emoji shorts are not a fashion abomination!”

“If you discard them, I’ll buy you new, stylish, brand name shorts. Nothing against generic; it’s just… not the same.”

Keiji can almost hear Atsumu roll his eyes. “Obviously they're not the same. That’s why I have to try both.”

“Once you’ve sampled the brand name shorts, you’ll never return to that emoji monstrosity.”

“Customer satisfaction or my money back,” Atsumu demands.

“Of course you’ll be satisfied; they’ll look great on you. They’ll highlight all of your features, but those emoji shorts make you look like a thot. You know, the kind that goes after another guy’s boyfriend.” Keiji shrugs, and he hopes Atsumu is understanding his metaphors.

“I'm not a thot!” Atsumu spits in defense, “I would never go after someone else’s man!”

“Darling, if you wouldn’t mind using your brain for once, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Whatever, I don’t need this from my boyfriend. I’m hanging up.”

“No, don’t go,” Keiji pleads, like he assumes Atsumu wants him to.

“Goodnight, honey!”

“Sweetheart, stay.”

“Bye!”

“Bye my lo—“ Keiji would have finished. But his boyfriend just hung up on him. _On him_. Now, Keiji doesn’t know if that’s how it’s supposed to work, but when he’s about to end a phone call, he at least expects to be able to say goodbye first.

 

X

 

“That was really rude of you to hang up on me the other night,” Keiji says, plucking a cherry off of the slice of cheesecake Atsumu slid him across the counter. The cherry sits pretty on Keiji’s tongue before he holds it by the stem and begins to suck.

“Sorry, babe, I need my beauty sleep.”

Keiji slowly pulls the stem out of his mouth. “Sorry, _Atsumu_ , only boys who don’t hang up on me can call me babe.”

Atsumu props his elbows on the counter to get closer to his boyfriend. “Oh, we’re gonna be petty?”

Keiji’s only answer is a sly smirk that turns Atsumu’s heart into a molten popsicle and its stick lying on a summertime sidewalk.

But before Atsumu has time to gush about how that smirk is going to be the death of him, the bakery door opens, and Atsumu doesn’t have time to fix his apron, but he does have time to reach over the counter and grab either side of Keiji’s face and lean in until their lips meet.

They depart nearly as quickly as they collided, but it was sweet, like Keiji wanted his first kiss to be.

“Oh, hey, shrimpy, how are ya?” Atsumu asks, trying to act casual. He turns toward Hinata, who stands just before the door with a wide smile on his face.

“What?! You guys are for real! Not just messing with Kageyama! I so thought it was a lie when Akaashi-san said he never kissed you before but Kageyama did, so this is such a relief because I thought I’d have to break it to him that you guys were just lying because you don’t like him back,” Hinata spits out rapid fire.

“No! I love Tobio-kun,” Atsumu smiles, avoiding Keiji’s burning glare.

“Yeah! Anyway, can I get an apple pie for Kenma?”

“Sure, it’s ¥1500.” Boxing up the pie and cashing Hinata out, Atsumu can feel Keiji’s eyes on him. Considering they just kissed, a highly romantic act, Atsumu feels strangely threatened. “Bye, little one!” Atsumu says his farewell before returning to Keiji.

“Atsumu, can I ask you a question?” He asks quietly but clearly.

Atsumu begins to open his mouth, but his aunt stalks quickly out of the back room to behind the counter. “Miya Atsumu!” She pinches his ear before he has a chance to answer. “What did I just see on the camera back there?”

“Uh,” Atsumu tries to buy time, “you saw… um… an apple pie.”

“No, you tool, you can’t just kiss your neighbors without enthusiastic consent first!”

“Thank you, Miya-san, I appreciate your concern, but Atsumu’s actually my boyfriend, whom I’ve given wholehearted consent to,” Keiji lies through his teeth.

“Oh,” her tone is friendlier as her fingers loosen on Atsumu’s ear. “What do you see in him?”

“He’s… nice,” Keiji lies again. Jeanette and Atsumu both laugh.

“You boys are so adorable. I thought you were only hanging out with Atsumu because I told your moms that he has no friends.”

“Nope. He lights a fire in my heart.” Keiji forces a smile and holds his open palm on the counter for Atsumu to grab, which he does.

“Alrighty then, kids! In celebration of your relationship, you can leave early.” She pushes Atsumu toward the gate of the counter. Atsumu’s fingers slip away from Keiji’s for ten seconds of separation anxiety.

 

X

 

Black curly hair is clustered, lying on Atsumu’s chest. “Weren't you going to ask me something?” Atsumu runs his fingers through the curls

“Yes. The goal of our fake relationship was so that your first kiss would be with Kageyama. Do you see the problem here?”

Now, it’s Atsumu’s turn to lie. “Hey, just because I had my first real kiss with you doesn’t mean I don’t wanna date Tobio-kun.”

“Atsumu, do you remember when Hinata said that you and Kageyama kissed?”

Atsumu’s cheeks flush. “You know how Kageyama and I went to that winter camp last year? We snuck out of our bedrooms to the courts at, like, three in the morning with Hoshiumi and some tall kid whose name I can’t remember to have a match, and then we got in each other’s way and fell on top of each other, and we sorta kissed, but it was only for a split second, and it wasn’t really a kiss. It was, y’know, one of those weird little things that doesn’t really count, okay?”

“Kageyama thinks it counts.”

Atsumu wraps his arms around Keiji’s waist. “Kageyama’s dumb.”

Keiji is only a tad unsure of why they’re cuddling on his couch, but he tells himself it’s because they’ll look like a real couple when his parents walk in.

He knows that Jeanette is going to tell his mothers, and then they’ll have to pretend like they’re dating for longer than they would have with their previous goal because his parents are going to be _livid_ if Keiji “breaks” Atsumu’s heart or vice versa since they have a “no dating family-friends” rule. Well, it’s too late for that.

“Atsumu, I hope you understand that you’re going to be my boyfriend for the summer.”

“Wasn’t it just until I flirted with Kageyama enough that he’ll eventually become jealous of us and confesses his feelings?”

“Okay, one: that’s not how it works. Two: this was only going to be a short relationship to incite the jealousy and cause him to realize his feelings. Then, we would break up, so Kageyama would know that you’re available, and he probably wouldn’t make the first move because he hates you just a little bit, so you’d have to make the first move, and then he’d give in because he likes you just enough to agree to go on a date.”

“Keiji,” Atsumu hugs him tighter, “how is this supposed to happen if I’m gonna be your boyfriend for the entire summer?”

“It won’t; fuck you,” Keiji smiles.

Atsumu _wishes_ , but he asks, “Excuse me?”

“Look,” Keiji shifts so his palms rest on the couch on either side of Atsumu’s face, “now that our… guardians are aware of our relationship, it has to seem real.”

“Just tell your moms it’s fake.”

“We just had the gay talk, and they’re going to be upset if I break up with my first boyfriend after two weeks, if even,” Keiji sighs.

“Not to be a dick,” Atsumu tries to hide his smile, “but what’s in it for me?”

“You can post cute couple pictures on your social media.”

“I was thinking we could kiss again, but that works, too.”

“Fine, you want to kiss?” Keiji begins to straddle Atsumu. “We can ki—”

A key unlocks the door; it swooshes open, and jubilant voices fill the foyer. “Keiji, sweetie,” a pair of eyes settle on he and Atsumu, “oh my god! Hana!”

“What?” Hana steps inside and follows her wife’s gaze to the living room. Keiji attempts to get off of Atsumu, rolling onto the floor into the process.“I told you this would happen if we adopted a boy.”

“That took us six months to do! How was I supposed to know?”

“Boys are horny, impulsive, and prematurely give their parents grandchildren. That’s why I wanted a girl.”

“Stop it, he’s right here!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now. It’s not like he’s getting anyone pregnant.”

“Hi,” Atsumu greets with a charming grin and a wave.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re Keiji’s first boyfriend!” Running to the couch, Ayame drops her purse on the floor and opens her arms to hug Atsumu. “You’re so adorable! I was worried Keiji would wait until he’s forty and settle.”

Keiji, lying on the floor, only partially expected his mom to react this way. He thought she would hug Atsumu and maybe pinch his cheeks again — but not after finding him being straddled by her son.

“Mother,” Keiji turns his attention to his other parent, “you wanted a girl?”

“I thought you were a girl when I first saw you, but I was attached to you after one second, so here you are,” she smiles.

“Thanks.”

 

X

 

Watching Atsumu scarf down a burger across at the table across from him, at two in the morning, Keiji thinks he might hate Atsumu.

He can only hate him for so long because whenever he stares at Atsumu, he becomes increasingly enraptured. It’s awful, really.

“This is the kind of shit you’ll have to put up with if you wanna be my summer boyfriend,” Atsumu says, picking from Keiji’s fries. “Just letting you know now.”

“This” refers to Atsumu calling Keiji at one fifty and begging him to take his mom’s car and drive them to McDonalds. Keiji had figured Atsumu would be the type to take advantage of situations in which he’s needed.

“Oh, and thanks for not telling my aunt that I’m a horrible person who kissed you without asking first.” He takes another fry.

There’s ketchup on the corner of Atsumu’s mouth, but Keiji thinks he still looks pretty. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you excited to be boyfriends, Keiji?”

“Thrilled,” Keiji deadpans, reaching over with a napkin to wipe Atsumu’s mouth.

“Awwwwww, Keiji! You’re just like a real boyfriend!”

“What are you talking about? ‘Like a real boyfriend,’” Keiji rolls his eyes, “I’m the realest boyfriend.”

Atsumu answers in the form of a grin that tugs at Keiji’s heartstrings.

Alright, Keiji will admit it.

He doesn’t hate Atsumu.


	6. The Red Convertible and the Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji is done with life and has fallen hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost done my friends   
> Sorry it’s short I was pressed for time but I didn’t wanna go a week w/o updating so here it is anyway pls enjoy hope u like it thx

Atsumu’s aware he’s ridiculous, yes. But he’s also aware that his fake boyfriend is attracted to him, which gives him quite the leg up. Thus, he feels he can get away with throwing rocks at Keiji’s window (even though it’s on the first floor) at seven in the morning.

Keiji’s quick to answer, something Atsumu likes about him. He pushes aside curtains and pulls up the window before wordlessly disappearing from Atsumu’s view. Climbing through the window, Atsumu says, “Hey there, doll face.”

But Keiji isn’t even in the room (Atsumu only realized this when Keiji comes back a minute later, smelling of old spice and toothpaste).

“Come here,” Atsumu commands although he approaches Keiji, meeting him halfway at the bed, Which Keiji unhesitatingly flops down on.

“First, you wake me up at two, now seven? Atsumu, do you ever sleep?” Keiji gripes, curling his fingers around his Atsumu’s pink hoodie. _His_ now.

“How can I sleep when I’m missing my boyfriend?”

“We aren’t even boyfriends,” Keiji mutters just loud enough for Atsumu to hear.

Fake relationships are stupid. Keiji wants to sleep.

He won’t, though.

Not when Atsumu lies beside him and emanates warmth, that Keiji wishes he couldn’t feel, and puts his hand on Keiji’s, which Keiji definitely has to fight back the urge to swat away.

“You’re the absolute worst,” Keiji states.

“Thanks.”

Keiji can't tell if Atsumu’s being sarcastic or if he’s not listening, and to be honest, Keiji doesn’t care anymore.

“My mom called this morning, and she’s pissed I never went to play with the travel team, but she said she doesn’t care if I’m gay, so I guess that’s good,” Atsumu shrugs.

“Good,” Keiji repeats, shoving his hand over Atsumu’s face, just so he won’t have to look at it and feel that annoying fluttering in his chest.

Staring at Keiji through the cracks of his fingers, Atsumu replies, “You’re so mean to your boyfriend, Keiji.”

“I can’t tell if I hate you or if I just really like you,” Keiji frowns, “and I. Don’t. Like. It.”

“I hope you really like me because my mom’s coming to visit next weekend just to meet you.”

“It didn’t occur to you to ask me before inviting your mother over?”

Atsumu chuckles, and suddenly Keiji feels like a fool. “She invited herself over.”

“I’m so excited,” Keiji huffs.

“You’ll probably like her. You both give me that look that’s like, ‘are you fucking kidding me? You’re so dumb, how are you real?’ every time you talk to me.”

“I do _not_.”

“You so do. Don’t feel bad about it, though; I like annoying you.”

“Yeah? Fuck you,” Keiji glares.

“Right this second, Keiji? Can’t you wait a little bit and prove your mother wrong?” Clucking his tongue, Atsumu takes Keiji’s hand off his face.

Keiji frowns and pulls at the sheets under Atsumu. “You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Nah, I was just busting your balls. I’d fuck you whenever you wanted,” Atsumu bears a toothy grin and throws his arm around Keiji’s waist.

“Likewise, I suppose.” Keiji attempts to avoid eye contact, but they’re too close, and Atsumu’s stare is too intense, and everything _sucks_.

“Having a boyfriend is fun.”

Keiji disagrees. Having a boyfriend — when Keiji’s not entirely sure he’s even his boyfriend — is confusing. And exhausting.

Atsumu leans closer, as if he weren’t already close enough. “It’d be more fun if you kissed me like you said you would, though.”

And anxiety-inducing.

“I promised no such thing.”

“Do you want to?”

Keiji understands what Atsumu is asking, yet he answers with a question. “Do I want to what?”

“Whatever, never mind. Let’s just cuddle and maybe play Mario Kart later.”

 

X

 

Chikara is mature, Keiji thinks. Chikara is nice, Keiji thinks. Chikara calls Keiji “Miya.”

“I hate you,” Keiji pushes out his chair as if he’s going to leave the classroom.

“He’s just doing it to get under your skin so you’ll wear your emotions,” Yamamoto rolls his eyes, but there’s an appreciative glint in them and a smile to accompany it.

“Ha-fucking-ha. Show the flop, already.”

Yamamoto sticks out his lips as he reveals the three cards. “Why did I have to be the dealer?”

“Because you’re the best at it,” Chikara grins at his friend as if Yamamoto needs skill to deal to two amateur poker-playing teenagers, sitting in a classroom that hasn’t been swept in a solid two months.

“I think Miya is, but whatever…” Yamamoto mutters under his breath before sharing a laugh with Chikara.

“My name is Akaashi Keiji.”

“Not for long,” Chikara shrugs, “in the grand scheme of things.”

“You already call him Atsumu, anyways,” Yamamoto adds. Trying his best to imitate Keiji’s typical face twisted with disgust, Yamamoto deadpans, “‘Fuck you, Atsumu. No, not really, idiot. Love you, too… I guess. Bye.’” Yamamoto assumes his typical countenance, “Yeah, don’t think we don’t hear you on the phone, lover boy.”

Keiji takes that as open invite to bear puppy eyes and look up at his friend. “‘Kaori-san, you’re so beautiful — an absolute goddess — please grace me with a flick,’” he says in his best dumb-jock voice. “Leave her alone, by the way, she has a boyfriend. I think.”

“Whatever,” Yamamoto shrugs, “so who’s the girl?”

“We’re boys.”

Chikara looks more amused than he should, Keiji thinks.

“Shut up, Ennoshita,” Keiji says although his friend hasn’t spoken.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, you’re obviously the bottom,” Chikara makes out between laughs, crinkling the cards in his hands.

“I’m fucking not.”

“You’re blushing, dude.” Yamamoto takes the liberty of removing his Nekoma-red jacket and bringing it to Akaashi’s face. “Look, bro,” he makes eye contact with Ennoshita, “same color, right?”

“Die in a ditch,” Keiji frowns, shoving away the jacket.

“It’s okay, Miya, we accept you even though you should’ve told us you were gay two years ago when we had that super intimate first-year crush discussion in the ball closet.”

Keiji glares at his friend. “Ennoshita didn’t even come to our training camps two years ago.”

“You still should’ve told _me_! We’re, like, besties!”

Waving his finger in front of Yamamoto’s face, Chikara shakes his head and says, “you’ve been replaced. It’s too late. Accept it.”

“Right. He gets the number one spot in your heart because he gives you dick,” Yamamoto spits sourly. “We could’ve been more, Akaashi Keiji. I just want you to remember that.” He pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Or should I say Miya Keiji?”

“To quote Kageyama-kun: go die.”

 

X

 

At this point, Keiji has stopped correcting his teammates when they call him Miya. He just doesn’t toss to them when they call for him, and he thinks they’ve started a system in which Onaga calls for a toss if the other blockers and spikers want one and vice versa, but Keiji doesn’t have the energy to keep up.

With a resigned sigh, he sits outside the third gym. “Hi, Atsumu,” he says into his phone, and no, he isn’t concerned with eavesdropping anymore. He's decided that caring takes far too much effort for far too little returns. 

“Couldn’t go too long without hearing the irresistible sound of my voice, huh?” Atsumu’s stupid, cocky voice sounds through the speaker.

“People think we’re really dating,” Keiji says, ignoring his boyfriend’s comment.

“Wasn’t that the whole point?”

“Yes, the statement was my way of saying ‘great job, Atsumu, you’re the best boyfriend I could ever ask for,’” Keiji clarifies because apparently his fake boyfriend isn’t able to read him yet.

“I know, Keiji, I just like fucking with you.” Never mind.

“Okay, good to know. Anyway, let’s give the whole relationship thing a rest and get back to your bucket list next time I see you.”

“Ever heard of synthesis, Keiji?”

“I have a dictionary, yes. I was the star of the fifth grade spelling bee.”

“I’m picking you up from camp, and then we’re gonna synthesize our goals.” 

“I’d much prefer the train, thanks.”

“See you in two days, babe.”

“If you pull up in your aunt’s convertible, I will hurt you.” Keiji’s voice is relenting, so Atsumu knows he doesn’t mean it anymore than he does when he says they’re only going to be fake boyfriends for the entire summer.

“7 a.m. good?”

“No.”

“6:59?”

Keiji lowers his phone for a second, but guilt draws it back up before he can end the call. “Bye, Atsumu.”

“Bye, babycakes.”

Keiji isn’t sure whether he loves the name or hates it, so he settles for both as he shoves the phone into his sweatshorts and kicks at the dirt.

 

X

 

Keiji watches his teammates and rivals walk through the courtyard. Ahead of him, Yamamoto and Tanaka trail behind Ennoshita. That is, until Ennoshita reaches the drop-off area, stops, and turns around to flash Keiji an annoyingly knowing grin.

The grin’s meaning seems to register in Yamamoto when he himself sports a shit-eating grin.

And then the meaning of the shit-eating grins register in Keiji.

He’s _here_.

Yamamoto’s ankle pivots toward the drop-off area. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Keiji glowers.

Yet Yamamoto takes off in sprint, and the Karasuno third-years are quick to follow.

By the time Keiji catches up, Tanaka and Atsumu have already exchanged their quick vulgar gestures, and Yamamoto’s all but hopping into the convertible. Keiji knew he should’ve told Atsumu to keep the roof up.

“You’re going on my Snapchat!” Yamamoto whips out his phone.

 _21st century kids_. Keiji rolls his eyes despite being one of them.

“Darling,” Atsumu addresses Keiji with his stupidly mellifluous voice. Stupidly, very stupidly. “Why is it that your friends are more excited to see me than you?”

“Hi,” Keiji says with a monotone that only one who is dead inside can have. Soon, he’s pushing Ennoshita aside and clicking open the passenger door.

“So nice meeting you, Atsumu, I think you’re trash, and I don’t know why Keiji’s dating you, but I wish you the best in your relationship,” Ennoshita smiles, like an uncle who disapproves of his niece’s punk boyfriend would.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Atsumu smiles back as irreverently as possible, the way a punk would. 

“He’s crazy about you. Talks about you every other minute,” Yamamoto turns to face Keiji’s boyfriend. “It’s like ‘boyfriend’ is his favorite word. Mega annoying, really, but I wanna be Keiji’s best man when you get married; remember that!” Yamamoto, upon a slight tug (okay, a rough pull) from Keiji, gets out of the passenger seat.

“Alright, fine, Keiji!” Yamamoto exclaims, raising his arms up before more quietly adding, so only Keiji can hear, “I’ll let you and your daddy have some alone time.”

Yamamoto doesn’t leave without an elbow to the ribs, but he and the Karasuno boys clear out by the time Keiji sits beside Atsumu.

“You have weird friends.”

“Must be why I’m attracted to you, huh?” The car is still in park.

Atsumu leans over, and Keiji knows no good can come from this. “Aww, you’re attracted to me?” Keiji doesn’t know if it’s really quiet or if his heart is beating _loud_ , and he thinks Atsumu’s inching _closer_ , and he can smell the sandalwood in Atsumu’s cologne, and suddenly Keiji can’t _think_ , and if he didn’t know any better he’d say he can’t breathe either.

Especially when Atsumu reaches a hand over to graze Keiji’s cheek, and Keiji doesn’t know if he wants to jump out of the car or lean into the warmth of Atsumu’s fingers.

Like it’s as simple as breathing (which ironically proves to be a challenge for Keiji), Atsumu gently presses his lips to Keiji’s.

In the macrocosm, they are nothing but specks of cells, meeting for a unit of time almost too insignificant for a name, yet Keiji feels that the meeting of their cells, of their lips, is an event equivalent to an asteroid rushing down to start a new era.

He can feel the blush overtaking his whole body.

“Go away,” Keiji shoves weakly at Atsumu’s chest, opening his eyes when Atsumu leans back.

“Miya Keiji!” A loud, light voice calls. Keiji knows that isn’t a good sign.

“Go home, Kaori.”

“You didn’t tell me your boyfriend had a car!” She pants, rushing toward them, her bag swinging against her hip. “Hey, I’m Kaori, Keiji’s favorite and only friend. Can I get a ride? Pleaaaase,” She elongates. She has a tendency to do that, Keiji notices. It reminds him of the way Atsumu says his name. Keiji _likes_ the way Atsumu says his name.

The next thing Keiji knows, Kaori is jumping into the backseat and profusely thanking Atsumu.

“It’s the least I can do for someone willing to put up with him,” Atsumu smiles, “he’s so obnoxious and impolite and just outright rowdy sometimes, don’t you think?” Atsumu asks Kaori.

“Oh, definitely, Keiji is the worst person alive, but we love him anyway, don’t we?”

“I so love Keiji.”

The l-word was not one Atsumu and Keiji had discussed. It feels like too much and too fast, but Keiji isn’t opposed to the idea of it. He might even be fond of it

“I know, I saw the way you kissed him.” This, Keiji thinks, is worth acknowledging.

He whips his head around to face Kaori. “You did?”

“Yuppity yup yup! Got it on camera in case Bokuto and Yukie wanted to see.”

“I’ll give you my number if you send it to me,” Atsumu offers with a smile.

The rest of the car ride to Kaori’s house is filled with playful banter between her and Atsumu (that Keiji was too busy ogling his boyfriend to butt into).

“Atsumu, where are you taking me?” Keiji asks when Atsumu turns in the opposite direction from their houses.

“We’re volunteering at the beach, since that’s on my bucket list. Sort of.”

 

X

 

Maybe it was the fact that Atsumu kept his hand in Keiji’s the entire time they were picking up bits of trash in the sand. Or maybe it was the way Atsumu so eagerly insisted that he and Keiji stay awhile after the cleanup, so they could accomplish a new addition to Atsumu’s bucket list: a romantic walk on the beach. Or maybe it was Atsumu’s hoodie shrouding him — in the summer heat, on the beach. Or maybe it was even the fact that Atsumu is about to let Keiji meet his mother tonight.

Whatever it was, it made Keiji, dragging his feet in the sand, water crashing against his and Atsumu’s legs, realize something that he should have a month ago.

“This is fucking stupid,” Keiji declares.


	7. You Had Me at “You’re Real Fuckin’ Dumb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeeereeeee it is!!!!!!! 
> 
> love ya pls enjoy thx

Atsumu spares the water a confused glance before turning to the sand at his feet and back to Keiji’s ocean-colored eyes. “Um, helping save the ocean is stupid?” Atsumu scratches the back of his head with his right hand. 

“No,” Keiji rolls his eyes and lifts up their laced fingers and speaks with conviction. “This. This is fucking stupid,” he reiterates, holding Atsumu’s left hand just centimeters away from his face. 

“Well, geez Keiji, if you didn’t like holding han—”

“I'm not happy; you’re not happy, so why are we doing this? Right now? We only have to pretend for our parents,” Keiji talks over Atsumu. 

“I’m not happy?” 

When their friendship began, Keiji thought that Atsumu _got_ it. Atsumu got _him_. But now, seeing as Atsumu clearly isn’t getting it, Keiji finds it hard not to wear his frustration. “You want to be with Kageyama-kun, no?” 

And Atsumu laughs. A real laugh, not a “ha ha ha, you’re so funny” laugh. The kind where his eyes crinkle, and he’s smiling, and he doubles over clutching at his stomach. A genuine fucking laugh that should be arrested for stealing Keiji’s pounding, little heart. 

If Keiji weren’t so annoyed by how attracted he is to Atsumu, maybe he would furrow his brows and open his mouth to ask what’s so funny, but, of course, he’s Angry (yes, with a capital _A_ ), so he glowers.

“Keiji,” Atsumu manages, practically wheezing, “you know,” he takes a deep breath and puts his hand on Keiji’s shoulder, bringing them close enough for Keiji to feel his hot breaths, “for someone so fuckin’ smart,” Atsumu continues, now with full composure, “you’re real fuckin’ dumb.” 

There’s something — Keiji can’t quite put his finger on it — about being called dumb that relieves his scowl and makes him want to melt into a puddle at Atsumu’s feet. 

So, burying his face into Atsumu’s firm shoulder, Keiji doesn’t ask what Atsumu means. He doesn’t want to know why he’s such a moron, apparently.

He just wants to be Atsumu’s _boyfriend_. 

“Keiji?”

He responds with an incoherent noise, sinking further into Atsumu.

“I probably should’ve told you this earlier, but my mom wants me to go back to Hyogo with her since school starts back in a week.” 

That alone is enough to pull Keiji out of his newfound lazy and complacent mood. Whipping his head back so fast that it hurts, Keiji returns to staring daggers at his (fake boy)friend. “ _What_.”

“Sorry,” Atsumu laments, gently pulling Keiji’s head toward his chest. However, he does a 360 when he says, “Actually, I don’t know why I’m apologizing for having to go to school.”

Keiji leans back to look Atsumu in the eyes. Starting in an irked whisper, his voice gradually gets louder. “Because I don’t want you to go, you absolute fucking buffoon!” 

Atsumu sports an offended look, but Keiji knows it’s fake. There’s an amused glint in his eyes — the kind that says ‘my sole existence on this earth as of present is to annoy you, and maybe break your heart a couple of times in the process.’ But what Atsumu actually says (testing Keiji’s patience) is “Neither do I; we only have, like, one janitor at Inarizaki, so it’s pretty fil—” 

“Atsumu,” Keiji puts his hand over the other’s mouth, “stop talking.”

“No,” Atsumu’s voice is muffled beneath Keiji’s fingers. “Are you mad at me?” He stares at Keiji with wide and deceivingly innocent eyes. 

Lowering his palm, Keiji sighs. “Yes, I’m mad at you.”

“Wanna sit?” Atsumu doesn’t give Keiji much of a choice, pulling him down toward the dry sand. “You can sit in my lap.” Upon Keiji’s lack of a response, Atsumu hastily adds, “only if you want, I mean.” 

Keiji wants, but he won’t condescend himself to do so. “I’m not a thot, you know.”

“Now I do.” Seeing as Keiji is about to strike him, Atsumu blocks off his face and spouts his most sincere, “I’m sorry, Keiji, I love you! Please don’t hurt me!” 

“Atsumu,” Keiji frowns, completely ignoring the l-word, which he assumes was born out of panic resulting from long fingers flying fast toward Atsumu’s cheek. It’s not like he was actually going to hit him; Keiji stopped his hand just short of Atsumu’s. 

“What?” Atsumu places his hand on Keiji’s wrist and lowers it. 

“I really don’t want you to go.” 

Atsumu’s eyebrows raise. “For real?” 

“No, I’m fucking lying.” As his face hardens and his vulnerability fades, Keiji brushes a bit of sand out of Atsumu’s hair. 

“Keiji, you know I like you, right?”

“Well I sure hope you do since we spent the past, like, four, five weekends together?”

“No, I mean like more than Kageyama. He and Hinata are having some weird thing, anyway, or at least I think so since he posted Hinata to his Instagram and tagged me.” 

“Um,” Keiji can feel his palms start to sweat when he squeezes Atsumu’s hand tight, “you do?”

“Keiji, I’m not gonna lie — and I lie a whole fuckin’ lot, so you better be flattered — I had a crush on you since day one, but when you asked about it, I sort of panicked and, you know, _lied_. I only really liked him for a couple of days, literally,” Atsumu finishes, but when Keiji responds with an awkward silence, he decides to continue, “well, that’s it, I guess, we can go home and never talk to each other again, if you want, I mean. I totally get it. I wouldn’t wanna talk to me either. Actually, I think it’s kinda a miracle you stuck around this long, y’know?” 

Keiji nods slowly, his heart rate antithesis to his motions. “So,” He squeezes Atsumu’s hand tighter, “does this mean you’re my real boyfriend now, or..?” 

“If you’re okay with that…” Atsumu’s cheeks are a rosy pink. 

“I am not.” Keiji challenges with raised eyebrows, but Atsumu can feel his sweaty fingers twitch. 

“Keiji!” Keiji imagines Atsumu would shoulder check him if they were side by side, but they’re not, so he only gives a pronounced pout until Keiji’s smile gives away that he was joking, and they laugh together this time until their peals settle into a silent, mutual grin. 

The sounds of the ocean singing and children squealing fill their ears in their quiet. The cobalt blue water is a picture-perfect Polaroid aesthetic, but Atsumu looks at Keiji, and Keiji spends a minute too long staring into Atsumu’s eyes. It isn’t awkward. It’s a content sort of silence, the kind that should be filled with an Oasis song. The kind where they finally understand each other because they let each other understand. 

It’s hard to get Atsumu to shut up, so really, Keiji’s grateful for a moment that they can sit in the sand with it clinging to their wet ankles and do and say absolutely positively nothing. It’s an unfamiliar peace that Keiji knew existed but never thought he’d have the opportunity to experience himself, and, frankly, it’s absolutely riveting. 

And it’s interrupted when Keiji feels internal panic that Atsumu might not have understood the intention of his sarcasm earlier. “Atsumu, we’re boyfriends, right?” 

“That's up to you, isn’t it?” 

“I thought it was up to you.” 

With a heavy sigh and a small smile, Atsumu answers, “Let’s just be boyfriends, Keiji.” 

“Let’s just be boyfriends?” Keiji asks for confirmation. 

“Let’s just be boyfriends,” Atsumu repeats, squeezing Keiji’s hand. 

 

X

 

It’s been seven hours, twenty-nine minutes, and thirty-two seconds since Keiji became Atsumu’s boyfriend, and they’re sitting across from Atsumu’s life-giver at Jeanette’s dinner table. 

“So, Keiji, what do you see in him?” Atsumu’s mother probes with an amused smile, taking pleasure in the offended gasp Atsumu makes. 

“Um, he likes saving the ocean, and he has nice hoodies, and he’s really passionate… about volleyball, that is,” Keiji clears his throat and presses his fingers together under the table. 

“You like saving the ocean, too?” She flashes a toothy grin just like Atsumu’s. 

“Definitely,” Atsumu answers on Keiji’s behalf, “he’s, like, such a hippie. He loves the earth more than I do. He even has chakra beads in his room.”

“No, I don—”

Grabbing Keiji’s hand, Atsumu says, “Keiji’s just embarrassed.” Turning to his boyfriend, he continues, “This is a safe space, darling.”

“What kind of chakra beads?!” Mom almost squeals, and Keiji _gets_ it.

“All seven, of course. Keiji gives off totally stoked vibes — all the time! He doesn’t have his bracelet on right now, but I promise you he’s cool as a cucumber, ma,” Atsumu smiles a bit too self-satisfied, if you ask Keiji. 

“So he’s the exact opposite of you?” 

Keiji tríes to stifle himself, but he can’t help laughing (even if it’s at Atsumu’s expense — especially if it’s at Atsumu’s expense). 

“How’d ya’ meet?” 

“Keiji came over because he heard Jeannette was housing a seventeen-year-old, and, well, Keiji’s very gay, so he had to see if the boy was cute, and _obviously_ I am, so he was like, ‘let’s be friends,’ and I was like, ‘sure, whatever,’ and here we are.” 

“That’s definitely what happened,” Keiji laughs coolly, but it sounds almost unnatural, so Atsumu draws his thumb across Keiji’s in attempt to comfort. 

“Keiji, I hear you’re at the top of your class. Are you thinking about any universities? I teach a chemistry night class at Osaka; you should apply!” 

“Osaka’s on my list,” Keiji nods with the awkward smile he bears for the majority of the night as Atsumu’s mom spits out a laundry list of questions, and Atsumu whispers his side comments to Keiji, which he gets called out for on numerous occasions. 

 

X

 

It’s been forty-seven days, 3 hours, 2 minutes, and six seconds since Keiji and Atsumu became boyfriends. They agreed to meet at the park (without a volleyball, unlike the first time). 

Keiji sits at the bench near the dirt volleyball court when someone approaches from behind and takes a seat beside him. 

Keiji, being the socially-disinclined teenager he is, refuses to make eye contact, so he doesn’t spare so much as a glance at who he assumes is a creepy forty-year-old man sitting beside him. Okay, Keiji spares a glance at his body (but not his face), and if he’s forty, he’s real damn fit.

“Pervert.” The voice, tinted with amusement and accompanied by strawberry breath, is unmistakably Miya Atsumu’s. 

So, as if it were second nature, Keiji swings his hand out to hit Atsumu’s chest as he makes eye contact. 

“If you wanted to touch me so bad, you could’ve just said so.” Atsumu looks at Keiji with that stupid smile that makes Keiji want to slam his head into his desk fifty-seven trillion times. 

(Bashfully,) Keiji finally holds eye contact longer than a yoctosecond. “Hi.” 

Atsumu breaks from a smirk into a full-on grin. “Hi!”

Keiji can’t help but smile back at him.

A familiar jingle rings in Keiji’s ears. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Keiji?” 

Grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and nodding his head, Keiji signals their race. 

It’s ice cream time.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u very much for reading mwah


End file.
